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THE    EXPOSITOR'S   BIBLE, 


EDITED  BY  THE   REV. 

W.    ROBERTSON    NICOLL,    M.A.,    LL.D., 

Editor  of  "  The  Expositor." 


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A' 


THE     BOOK     OF     ECgLESIASTES. 


SAMUEL     COX,     D.D. 


NEW    YORK: 

A.    r      \T^ATSTRONG    AND    SON, 

714,    BROADWAY. 


THE     BOOK 

or 

ECCLESIASTES 

WITH  A    NEW   TRANSLATION. 


SAMUEL^COX,    D.D., 

AUTHOR     OF     COMMENTARIES     ON     JOB,     RUTH,     ETC. 


Omnia  vanitas,  prater  aniare  Dcmii,  et  illi  soU  servire." 

ji- — """^  I     '.     ^~'''-^  —St.  Augustine. 

/  ^^    !  \ 


NEW   YORK: 

A.    C.    ARMSTRONG    AND    SON, 

714,    BROADWAY. 


PRE  FACE. 

'T^HE  Lectures  on  which  this  book  is  founded 
were  delivered  five-and-twenty  years  ago,  and 
were  published  in  A.D.  1867.^  Eor  more  than  twenty 
years  the  book  has  been  out  of  print,  a  large  first 
edition  having  been  speedily  sold  out.  No  other 
edition  was  issued  owing  to  the  fact  that  my  pub- 
lisher soon  passed  into  another  profession.  I  have 
often  been  asked  to  reprint  it,  but  have  always  felt 
that,  before  reprinting,  I  must  rewrite  it.  Till  of  late, 
however,  I  could  not  command  leisure  for  the  task. 
But  when,  at  the  commencement  of  this  year,  the 
Editor  of  The  ExrosiTOR's  Bible  did  me  the 
honour  to  ask  permission  to  reprint  it,  that  he  might 
include  it  in  this  excellent  series,  I  had  leisure  at 
command,  and  cheerfully  devoted  it  to  the  revision 
of  my  work.  Among  the  more  recent  commentaries 
I  have  read  with  this  purpose  in  view,  those  which 

1  The  Quest  of  the  Chief  Good.  A  Popular  Commentary  on 
the  book  Ecclesiastes,  with  a  New  Translation.  By  Samuel 
Cox.     London  :  Arthur  Miall. 


vi  PREFACE. 

I  have  found  most  helpful  and  suggestive  were  that 
of  Delitzsch,  that  by  Dr.  Wright,  that  of  Dean 
Plumptre,  and  the  fine  fragment  contributed  to  The 
Expositor  by  Dr.  Perowne,  the  Dean  of  Peter- 
borough. In  the  preface  to  the  former  edition  I 
dwelt  on  my  indebtedness  to  the  commentary  of 
Dr.  Ginsburg,  published  in  A.D.  1861.  In  my  judg- 
ment it  still  remains  by  far  the  best,  the  most 
thorough  and  the  most  sound.  It  has  but  one 
serious  defect ;  it  is  addressed  to  scholars,  and  so 
abounds  in  learning  and  erudition  that  it  can  never 
come  into  popular  use.  Indeed  even  now,  although 
during  the  last  twenty  years  there  has  been  an 
immense  advance  in  the  study  and  exposition  of 
Holy  Writ,  and  many  able  and  learned  men  have 
devoted  themselves  to  the  service  of  the  general 
public,  I  know  of  no  commentary  on  this  Scripture 
which  really  meets  the  wants  of  the  unlettered.  I 
cannot  but  hope,  therefore,  that  the  Quest  of  the 
Chief  Good  may  still  serve  a  useful  purpose,  and 
that,  in  its  revised  form,  it  may  be  found  helpful 
to  those  who  most  need  help. 

In  rewriting  the  book  I  have  retained  as  much  as 
I  could  of  its  earlier  form,  lest  the  vivacity  of  a  first 
exposition  of  the  Scripture  should  be  lost.  And, 
indeed,  the  alterations  I  have  had  to  make  are  but 


PREFACE.  -vii 

slight  for  the  most  part,  though  I  have  in  many 
places  altered,  and,  I  hope,  amended  both  the 
translation  and  the  commentary  :  but  there  are 
one  or  two  additions — they  will  be  found  on  pages 
20 — 26,  and,  again,  in  certain  modifications  of  the 
exposition  of  Chapter  XII.,  verses  9 — 12,  on  pages 
279 — 305,  dealing  mainly  with  the  structure  of 
Ecclesiastes — which  may,  I  trust,  be  found  useful 
not  to  the  general  reader  alone.  Since  the  original 
edition  appeared  I  have  had  to  study  the  Book 
of  Job,  most  of  the  Psalms,  many  of  the  Pro- 
phetical writings,  and  some  of  the  Proverbs  ;  and  it 
was  inevitable  that  in  the  course  of  these  pleasant 
studies  I  should  arrive  at  clearer  and  more  definite 
conceptions  on  the  structure  of  Hebrew  poetry. 
These  I  now  place  at  the  service  of  my  readers, 
and  submit  to  the  judgment  of  scholars  and  critics. 
Another  and  much  more  important  result  of  these 
subsequent  studies  has  been  that  I .  can  now  speak 
with  a  more  assured  confidence  of  the  theme  of 
this  Sci  'pture,  and  of  its  handling  by  the  Author. 
None  o  the  scholars  who  have  recently  commented 
on  the  Book  doubt  that  it  is  the  quest  of  the  chief 
good  which  it  sets  forth  ;  and  though  some  of  them 
arrange  and  divide  it  differently,  yet,  on  the  whole 
and  in  the  main,  they  are  agreed  that  this  quest  is 


viii  PREFACE. 

urged  in  Wisdom,  in  Pleasure,  in  Devotion  to  Public 
Affairs,  in  Wealth  and  in  the  Golden  Mean  ;  and 
that  it  ends  and  rests  in  the  large  noble  conclusion, 
that  only  as  men  reverence  God,  and  keep  his 
commandments,  and  trust  in  his  love,  do  they 
touch  their  true  ideal,  and  find  a  good  that  will 
satisfy  and  sustain  them  under  all  changes,  even  to 
the  last.  The  assent  to  this  view  of  the  Book  was 
by  no  means  general  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  ; 
but  it  is  so  wide  now,  and  is  sanctioned  by  the 
authority  of  so  many  schools  of  learning,  that  I  think 
no  reader  of  the  following  pages  need  be  disturbed 
by  misgivings  as  to  the  accuracy  of  the  main  lines 
of  thought  here  set  forth. 

Few  Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament  are  so 
familiar  to  the  general  reader  as  Ecdesiastes ;  and 
that  inainly,  I  think,  because  it  addresses  itself  to 
a  problem  which  is  "  yours,  mine,  every  man's." 
Many  more  quotations  from  it  have  entered  into 
our  current  speech  than  have  been  taken  from  Job, 
for  example,  although /c*^  is  both  a  much  larger  and 
a  much  finer  poem  than  this — "  the  finest  poem," 
as  a  great  living  poet  has  said,  "  whether  of  the 
modern  or  of  the  antique  world."  It  is  a  Book 
which  can  never  lose  its  interest  for  men  until  the 
last  conflict  in   the  long  strife  of  doubt  has  led  in 


PREFACE.  ix 

the  final  victory  of  faith ;  and  seems,  in  especial,  to 
adapt  itself  to  the  conditions  and  wants  of  the 
present  age.  It  deals  with  the  very  questions  which 
are  in  all  our  minds,  and  offers  a  solution  of  them, 
and,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  only  solution,  in  which 
those  who  have  "  eternity  in  their  hearts  "  can  rest. 
May  all  who  study  it,  with  such  help  as  the  following 
pages  afford,  find  rest  to  their  souls,  and  be  drawn 
from  the  heat  and  strife  of  thought  into  the  calm 
and  hallowed  sanctuary  which  it  throws  open  to  our 
erring  feet. 

The  Holme,  Hastings, 
October  1 890. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGES 

I.  The  Introduction 1—66 

§   I.   On  the  Atithorshij),  Form,  Design,  and 

Contents  of  the  Book     .        .        .        .  3—32 

§  2.  0)1  the  History  of  the  Captivity                  .  32 — 66 

(1)  The  Babylonian  Period        .         .        .  38 — 43 

(2)  The  Persian  Period              .        .        .  43 — 66 


II.  The  Translation 67 — no 

§  I.  The  Prologue 69 — 70 

§  2.  The  First  Section  :  or,  The  Quest  of 
the    Chief  Good   in  Wisdom    and    in 

Pleasure 71 — 76 

§  3.  The   Seco7id  Section  :    or,   The   Quest   in 

Devotion  to  the  Affairs  of  Business       .  yj — 86 

§  4.  The    Third   Section  :     or,    The    Quest   in 

WeaUh  and  in  the  Golden  Mean        .  8; — 96 

§  5.  2he    Fourth     Section  :     or,    The     Quest 

Achieved 97 — 108 

§  6.  Tlie  Epilogue 109,  no 


CONTENTS. 


PAGES 

III.  The  Exposition m— 335 

§  I.  The  Prologue 113 — 126 

§  2.  The  First  Section  :  or,   T/2e  Qiicst  in 

Wisdom  and  in  Pleasure     .         .        .  127 — 141 

(irz)  The  Quest  in  IVisdom  .  .  .  127 — 133 
{b)  The  Quest  in  Pleasure  .  .  .  133 — 137 
[c]  Wisdom  and  Pleaszcre  Compared  .  138 — 140 
{d)  The  Conchtsion 140,  141 

§  3.  The  Second  Section  :  or,  The  Quest  in 

Devotion  to  the  Affairs  of  Business    .  142 — 186 

((?)  The  Quest  obstructed  by  Divine  Ordi- 
nances ;     143 — 145 

{U)  And  by  Human  Injustice  and  Per- 
versity        145 — 151 

(c)  It  is  rendered  hopeless  by  the  base 

Origin  of  Human  Industries  .    151,  152 

{d')  Yet  these   are   capable   of   a  nobler 

Motive  and  Mode    ....  153 — 158 

[e)  So  also  a  happier  and  more  effective 

Method  of  Worship  is  open  to  Man;   158 — 160 

(_/)  And  a  more  helpful  and  consolatory 

Trust  in  the  Divine  Providence       .  161 — 164 

{g')  The  Conclusion  ....     164,  165 

Application 165 — 186 

(«)  Devotion   to    Business    springs   from 

Jealous  Competition  :  .  .  .  168,  169 
(h)  It  tends  to  form  a  Covetous  Temper; .  169 — 171 
(c)  To  produce  a  Materialistic  Scepticism ;  171 — 173 


CONTENTS. 


PAGES 

{(l)  To  make  Worship  Formal  and  In- 
sincere ; 173,  174 

(c)  And.  to  take  from  Life  its  Quiet  and 

Innocent  Enjoyments       ,         .         .  175 — 179 

{/)  The  Correctives  of  this  Devotion  are, 

(i)  A  Sense  of  its  Perils  ;         .        .    179,180 
(2)  And  the   Conviction  that  it  is 
opposed  to  the  Will  of  God 
as  expressed — 

{a)  In  the  Ordinances  of 
his  Providence,     ...  180 

{b)  In  the  Wrongs  which 
He  permits  Men  to  inflict 
upon  us ;        .         .         .         .  181 

(c)  But  above  all  in  the 
immortal  Cravings  which  He 
has  quickened  in  the  Soul     .    182,  183 

{g)  Practical  Maxims  deduced  from  this 

View  of  the  Business-Life       .        .  184 — 186 

(i)  A  Maxim  on  Co-operation        .  184 

(2)  A  Maxim  on  Worship       .        ,    184,  185 

(3)  A  Maxim  on  Trust  in  God         .     185,  186 

4.  The  Third  Section  :    or.  The  Quest  m 

Wealth  and  171  the  Golden  Mean        .   187 — 228 

(A)  The  Qicestin  Wealth        ....  188 — 193 

{a)  The  Man  who  makes  Riches  his 
Chief  Good  is  haunted  by  Fears 
and  Perplexities  :     .        .        .        .  188 — 190 


CONTENTS. 


PAGES 

{b)  For   God   has   put   Eternity  into   his 

heart ; 190,  191 

[c)  And  much  that  he  gains  only  feeds 

Vanity; 191,  192 

{d)  Neither   can   he   tell  what  it  will  be 

Good  for  him  to  have,  .         .         .  192 

((?)  Nor  foresee  what  will  become  of  his 

Gains 192,  193 

(B)  The  Quest  hi  the  Golden  Meafi        .        .  193 — 209 

(a)  The  Method  of  the  Man  who  seeks  a 

Competence 195 — 199 

(/;)  The  Perils  to  which  it  exposes  him      .  199 — zoy 

(i)  He    is    likely    ta    compromise 

Conscience :  .        .        .        .    200,  201 

(2)  To  be  indifferent  to  Censure  :  .  201 — 203 

(3)  To  despise  Women  : .        .        .  203 — 205 

(4)  And  to  be  indifferent  to  Public 

Wrongs  ....  205 — 207 

(r)  The   Preacher  condemns  this  Theory 

of  Human  Life        ....  207 — 209 


Application 209 — 228 

(A)  The  Quest  ill  Wealth        ....  212—218 

ia)  The  Man  who  makes  Riches  his  Chief 
Good  is  haunted  by  Fears  and 
Perplexities 213,  214 


CONTENTS. 


[b)  Much  that  he  gains  only  feeds  Vanity    214,  215 

[c)  He  cannot  tell  what  it  will  be  Good 

for  him  to  have  ;       ....  215 

[d)  Nor  foresee  what  will  become  of  his 

Gains  : 215,  216 

{e)  And  because  God  has  put  Eternity 
into  his  heart,  he  cannot  be  con- 
tent with  Temporal  Gains       .        .  216 — 218 

(B)  The  Quest  vt  the  Golden  Mean        .        .  218 — 228 

{a)  The  Method  of  the  Man  who  seeks  a 

Competence     .     •  .        .        .         .  220 — 222 
{b)  The  Perils  to  which  it  exposes  him     .  222 — 226 

(i)  He  is  likely  to  compromise  Con- 
science :  .        .         .        .        .  222 — 224 

(2)  To  be  indifferent  to  Censure  :     .  224 

(3)  To  despise  Women  :   .        .         .  225 

(4)  And  to  be  indifferent  to  Public 

Wrongs 226 

{c)  The  Preacher  condemns  this  Theory 

of  Human  Life        ....    227,  228 

5.  The  Fourth  Section  :    or,   The   Quest 

Achieved    .        '. 229 — i"]'-, 

{a)  The  Chief  Good  not  to  be  found  in 

Wisdom  : 230 — 234 

{p)  Nor  in  Pleasure  : 234 — 237 


CONTENTS. 


{c)  Nor  in   Devotion  to  Affairs   and  its 

Rewards  : 237 — 246 

(d)  But  in  a  wise  Use  and  a  wise  Enjoy- 

ment of  the  Present  Life,         .        .  247 — 256 

[e)  Combined  with   a   stedfast   Faith   in 

the  Life  to  come      ....  256 — 275 

6.  The  Epilogue  :  In  which  the  Problem 

of  the  Book  is  cojiclusivcly  Solved        .  276 — 335 


INTRODUCTION. 


§  I.  07V   THE  AUTHORSHIP,   FORM,  DESIGN,  AND 
CONTENTS  OF  THE  BOOK. 

'nr^HOSE  who  raise  the  question,  "  Is  hfe  worth 
-*-  hving  ?  "  answer  it  by — Hving  on  ;  for  no  man 
lives  simply  to  proclaim  what  a  worthless  and  wretched 
creature  he  is.  But  for  the  most  part  the  question  is 
mooted  in  a  merely  academical  and  not  very  sincere 
spirit.  And  to  the  dainty  and  fastidious  pessimist 
who  goes  about  to  imply  his  own  superiority  by  de- 
claring that  the  world  which  contents  his  fellows  is  not 
good  enough  for  him,  there  still  seems  no  better  reply 
than  the  rough  but  rousing  and  wholesome  rebuke 
which  Epictetus  gave  to  such  as  he  some  nineteen 
centuries  ago,  reminding  them  that  there  were  many 
exits  from  the  theatre  of  life,  and  advising  them,  if  they 
disliked  the  "show,"  to  retire  from  it  by  the  nearest 
door  of  escape,  and  to  make  room  for  spectators  of  a 
more  modest  and  grateful  spirit. 

Of  the  pessimists  of  his  time  he  demands,  "  Was  it 
not  God  who  brought  you  here  ?     And  as  what  did  He 


THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


bring  you  ?  Was  it  not  as  a  mortal  ?  Was  it  not  as 
one  who  was  to  live  with  a  little  portion  of  flesh  upon 
the  earth,  and  to  witness  his  administration — to  behold 
the  great  spectacle  around  you  for  a  little  while  ? 
After  you  have  beheld  the  solemn  and  august  spectacle 
as  long  as  is  permitted  you,  will  you  not  depart  when 
He  leads  you  out,  adoring  and  thankful  for  what  you 
have  heard  and  seen  ?  For  you  the  solemnity  is  over. 
Go  away,  then,  like  a  modest  and  grateful  person. 
Make  room  for  others." 

"  But  why,"  urges  the  pessimist,  "  did  He  bring  me 
into  the  world  on  these  hard  terms  ?  " 

"Oh!"  replies  Epictetus,  "if  you  don't  like  the 
terms,  it  is  always  in  your  power  to  leave  them.  He 
has  no  need  of  a  discontented  spectator.  He  will  not 
miss  you  much,  nor  we  either." 

But  if  any  man  lift  the  question  into  a  more  sincere 
and  noble  form  by  asking,  ^^  How  may  life  be  made 
worth  living,  or  best  worth  living  ?  " — in  other  words, 
"What  is  the  true  ideal,  and  what  the  chief  good,  of 
man  ?  " — he  will  find  no  nobler  answer  to  it,  and  none 
more  convincingly  and  persuasively  put,  than  that  con- 
tained in  this  Scripture,  which  modern  pessimists  are 
apt  to  quote  whenever  they  want  to  "  approve "  their 
melancholy  hypothesis  "  with  a  text."  From  Schopen- 
hauer downward,  this  Book  is  constantly  cited  by  them 
as  if  it  confirmed  the  conclusion  for  which  they  con- 


INTRODUCTION. 


tend,  Taubert  even  going  so  far  as  to  find  "  a  cate- 
chism of  pessimism  "  in  it.  Their  assumption,  however, 
is  based  on  a  total  misapprehension  of  the  design  and 
drift  of  Ecclesiastes  of  which  no  scholar  should  have 
been  guilty,  and  of  which  it  is  hard  to  see  how  any  scholar 
could  have  been  guilty  had  he  studied  it  as  a  whole, 
instead  of  carrying  away  from  it  only  what  he  wanted. 
So  far  from  lending  any  countenance  to  their  conclusion 
of  despair,  it  frankly  traverses  it — as  I  hope  to  show, 
and  as  many  have  shown  before  me — and  lands  us  in  its 
very  opposite ;  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  with 
the  Hebrew  Preacher  being,  that  whoso  cultivates  the 
virtues  of  charity,  diligence,  and  cheerfulness,  because 
God  is  in  heaven  and  rules  over  all,  he  will  not  only 
find  life  well  worth  living,  but  will  pursue  its  loftiest 
ideal  and  touch  its  true  blessedness. 

When  scholars  and  "  philosophers  "  have  fallen  into 
a  mistake  so  radical  and  profound,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  the  unlettered  should  have  followed  their  leaders 
into  the  ditch,  and  taken  this  Scripture  to  be  the  most 
melancholy  in  the  Sacred  Canon,  instead  of  one  of  the 
most  consolatory  and  inspiriting,  for  want  of  appre- 
hending its  true  aim.  Beyond  all  doubt,  there  is  a 
prevailing  ground-tone  of  sadness  in  the  Book ;  for 
through  by  far  the  larger  part  of  its  course  it  has  to 
deal  with  some  of  the  saddest  facts  of  human  life — with 
the  errors  which  divert  men  fi-om  their  true  aim,  and 


THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


plunge  them  into  a  various  and  growing  misery.  But 
the  voice  which  sinks  so  often  into  this  tone  of  sadness 
is  the  voice  of  a  most  brave  and  cheerful  spirit,  a  spirit 
whose  counsels  can  only  depress  us  if  we  are  seeking 
our  chief  good  where  it  cannot  be  found.  For  the 
Preacher,  as  we  shall  see,  does  not  condemn  the  wisdom 
or  the  mirth,  the  devotion  to  business  or  the  acquisition 
of  wealth,  in  which  most  men  find  "  the  chief  good  and 
market  of  their  time,"  as  in  themselves  vanities.  He 
approves  of  them ;  he  shows  us  how  we  may  so  pursue 
and  so  use  them  as  to  find  them  very  pleasant  and 
wholesome ;  how  we  may  so  dispense  with  them,  if 
they  prove  beyond  our  reach,  as  none  the  less  to  enjoy 
a  very  true  and  abiding  content.  His  constant  and 
recurring  moral  is  that  we  are  to  enjoy  our  brief  day 
on  earth ;  that  God  meant  us  to  enjoy  it ;  that  we  are 
to  be  up  and  doing,  with  a  heart  for  any  strife,  or  toil, 
or  pleasure ;  not  to  sit  still  and  weep  over  broken  illu- 
sions and  defeated  hopes.  Our  lower  aims  and  posses- 
sions become  vanities  to  us  only  when  we  seek  in  them 
that  supreme  satisfaction  which  He  who  has  "  put 
eternity  into  our  hearts  "  designed  us  to  find  only  in  Him 
and  in  serving  Him.  If  we  love  and  serve  Him,  if  we 
gratefully  acknowledge  Him  to  be  the  Author  of  "  every 
good  gift  and  every  perfect  boon,"  if  we  seek  first  his 
kingdom  and  righteousness  ;  in  fine,  if  we  are  Christian 
in  more  than  name,  the  study  of  this  Book  should  not 


INTRODUCTION. 


make  us  sad.  We  should  find  in  it  a  confirmation  of 
our  most  intimate  convictions,  and  incentives  to  act  upon 
them.  But  if  we  do  not  hold  our  wisdom,  our  mirth,  our 
labour,  our  wealth  as  the  gifts  and  ordinances  of  God 
for  our  good,  if  we  permit  them  to  usurp  his  seat  and 
become  as  gods  to  us,  then  indeed  this  Book  will  be 
sad  enough  for  us,  but  no  whit  sadder  than  our  lives. 
It  will  be  sad,  and  will  make  us  sad,  yet  only  that  it 
may  lead  us  to  repentance,  and  through  repentance  to 
a  true  and  lasting  joy. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  the  popular  misconception  of 
this  singular  and  most  instructive  Scripture  goes  much 
farther  than  this,  and  extends  to  questions  much  more 
superficial  than  that  of  the  temper  or  spirit  it  breathes. 
If,  for  example,  the  average  reader  of  the  Bible  were 
asked,  Who  wrote  this  Scripture  ?  when  was  it 
written  ?  to  whom  was  it  addressed  ?  what  is  its 
general  scope  and  design  ?  his  answer,  I  suppose,  would 
be :  "  Solomon  wrote  this  Book ;  of  course,  therefore, 
it  was  written  in  his  lifetime,  and  addressed  to  the 
men  over  whom  he  ruled ;  and  his  design  in  writing 
it  was  to  reveal  his  own  experience  of  life  for  their 
instruction."  And  yet  in  all  probability  no  one  of 
these  answers  is  true,  or  anywhere  near  the  truth. 
According  to  the  most  competent  judges,  the  Book 
Ecclesiastes  was  not  written  by  Solomon,  nor  for  cen- 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


turies  after  his  death ;  it  was  addressed  to  a  generation 
of  feeble  and  oppressed  captives,  who  had  been  carried 
away  into  exile,  or  had  lately  returned  from  it,  and  not 
to  the  free  prosperous  nation  which  rose  to  its  highest 
pitch  in  the  reign  of  the  Wise  King.  It  is  a  dramatic 
representation  of  the  experience  of  a  Jewish  sage,  who 
deliberately  set  himself  to  discover  and  pursue  the  chief 
good  of  man  in  all  the  provinces  and  along  all  the 
avenues  in  which  it  is  commonly  sought,  eked  out  by 
what  he  supposed  or  tradition  reported  Solomon's 
experience  to  have  been ;  and  its  design  was  to  com- 
fort men  who  were  groaning  under  the  heaviest  wrongs 
of  Time  with  the  bright  hope  of  Immortality. 

To  scholars  versed  in  the  niceties  of  the  Oriental 
languages,  the  most  convincing  proof  of  the  compara- 
tively modern  date  and  authorship  of  the  Book  is  to  be 
found  in  its  words,  and  idioms,  and  style.  The  base 
forms  of  Hebrew  and  the  large  intermixture  of  foreign 
terms,  phrases,  and  turns  of  speech  which  characterize 
it — these,  with  the  absence  of  the  nobler  rhythmic 
forms  of  Hebrew  poetry,  are  held  to  be  a  conclusive 
demonstration  that  it  was  written  during  the  Rabbini- 
cal period,  at  a  time  long  subsequent  to  the  Augustan 
age  in  which  Solomon  lived  and  wrote.  The  critics 
and  commentators  whose  names  stand  highest  ^  tell  us 

^  Rosenmiiller,  Ewald,  Knobel,  De  Wette,  Delitzsch,  Gins- 
burg,  with  many  other  competent  judges,  are   agreed  on  this 


INTRODUCTION. 


that  it  would  be  just  as  easy  for  them  to  believe  that 
Hooker  wrote  Blair's  Sermons,  or  that  Shakespeare 
wrote  the  plays  of  Sheridan  Knowles,  as  to  believe 
that  Solomon  wrote  Ecclesiastes.  And  of  course  on 
such  questions  as  these  we  can  only  defer  to  the  verdict 
of  men  who  have  made  them  the  study  of  their  lives. 

But  with  all  our  deference  for  learning,  we  have  so 
often  seen  the  conclusions  of  the  ripest  scholars  modi- 
fied or  reversed  by  their  successors,  and  we  all  know 
"  questions  of  words  "  to  be  capable  of  so  many  dif- 
ferent interpretations,  that  probably  we  should  still 
hold  our  judgment  in  suspense,  were  there  no  argu- 
ments against  the  traditional  hypothesis  such  as  plain 
men  use  and  can  understand.  There  are  many  such 
arguments,  however,  and  arguments  that  seem  to  be 
of  a  conclusive  force. 

As,  for  instance,  this  :  The  whole  social  state 
described  in  this  Book  is  utterly  unlike  what  we  know 
to  have  been  the  condition  of  the  Hebrews  during  the 
reign  of  Solomon,  but  exactly  accords  with  the  condition 
of  the  captive  Israelites,  who,  at  the  disruption  of  the 
Hebrew  monarchies,  were  carried  away  into  Babylonia. 

point ;  and  even  those  who  in  part  differ  from  them  differ  only 
in  assigning  the  Book  to  a  date  still  farther  removed  from  the 
time  of  Solomon.  There  are  but  few  scholars  who  now  contend 
for  the  Solomonic  authorship,  and  hardly  any  of  these  are,  I 
think,  in  the  first  rank. 


THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


Under  Solomon  the  Hebrew  State  touched  its  highest 
point.  His  throne  was  surrounded  by  statesmen  of 
tried  sagacity ;  his  judges  were  incorrupt.  Commerce 
grew  and  prospered,  till  gold  became  as  common  as 
silver  had  been,  and  silver  as  common  as  brass. 
Literature  flourished,  and  produced  its  most  perfect 
fruits.  And  the  people,  though  heavily  taxed  during  the 
later  years  of  his  reign,  enjoyed  a  security,  a  freedom, 
an  abundance  unknown  whether  to  their  fathers  or 
to  their  children.  "Judah  and  Israel  were  many  in 
number  as  the  sands  by  the  sea,  eating,  drinking, 
and  making  merry.  .  .  .  And  Judah  and  Israel  dwelt 
safely,  every  man  under  his  vine  and  under  his  fig-tree, 
from  Dan  even  to  Beersheba,  all  the  days  of  Solomon  " 
(i  Kings  iv.  20,  25).  But  as  we  read  this  Book  we 
gather  from  it  the  picture  of  a  social  state  in  which 
kings  were  childish,  and  princes  addicted  to  revelry 
and  drunkenness  (x.  16)  ;  great  fools  were  lifted  to 
high  places  and  rode  on  stately  horses,  while  nobles 
were  degraded  and  had  to  tramp  through  the  mire 
(x.  6,  7)  ;  the  race  was  not  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle 
to  the  strong,  nor  riches  to  the  intelligent,  nor  favour  to 
the  learned  (ix.  ii).  The  most  eminent  public  services 
were  suffered  to  pass  unrewarded,  and  were  forgotten 
the  moment  the  need  for  them  was  passed  (ix.  14,  15). 
Property  was  so  insecure  that  to  amass  wealth  was 
only  to  multiply  extortions,  and  to  fall  a  prey  to  the 


INTRODUCTION. 


cupidity  of  princes  and  judges,  insomuch  that  the 
sluggard  who  folded  his  hands,  so  long  as  he  had  bread 
to  eat,  was  esteemed  wiser  than  the  diligent  merchant 
who  applied  himself  to  the  labours  and  anxieties  of 
traffic  (iv,  5,  6).  Life  was  as  insecure  as  property, 
and  stood  at  the  caprice  of  men  who  were  slaves  to 
their  own  lusts ;  a  hasty  word  spoken  in  the  divan  of 
any  one  of  the  satraps,  or  even  a  resentful  gesture, 
might  provoke  the  most  terrible  outrages  (viii.  3,  4 ; 
X.  4).  The  true  relation  between  the  sexes  was 
violated  ;  the  ruling  classes  crowded  their  harems  with 
concubines,  and  even  the  wiser  sort  of  men  took  to 
themselves  any  woman  they  desired ;  while,  with  cynical 
injustice,  they  first  degraded  women,  and  then  con- 
demned them  as  ahke  and  altogether  bad,  their  hands 
chains,  their  love  a  snare  (vii.  26,  28  ;  ix.  9).  The 
oppressions  of  the  time  were  so  constant,  so  cruel,  and 
life  grew  so  dark  beneath  them,  that  those  who  died 
long  ago  were  counted  happier  than  those  who  were 
still  alive ;  while  happier  than  either  were  those  who 
had  not  been  born  to  see  the  intolerable  evils  on  which 
the  sun  looked  calmly  down  day  by  day  (iv.  1-3).  In 
fine,  the  whole  fabric  of  the  State  was  fast  falling  into 
ruin  and  decay,  through  the  greed  and  sloth  of  rulers 
who  taxed  the  people  to  the  uttermost  in  order  to 
supply  their  wasteful  luxury  (x.  18,  19);  while  yet,  so 
dreadful  was  their  tyranny  and  their  spies  so  ubiqui- 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


tons,  that  no  man  dared  to  breathe  a  word  against 
them  even  to  the  wife  of  his  bosom  and  in  the  secrecy 
of  the  bed-chamber  (x.  20)  :  the  only  consolation  of 
the  oppressed  was  the  grim  hope  that  a  time  of  retri- 
bution would  overtake  their  tyrants,  from  which  neither 
their  power  nor  their  craft  should  be  able  to  save  them 
(viii.  5-8). 

Nothing  would  be  more  difficult  than  to  accent  this 
as  a  picture  of  the  social  and  political  features  of  the 
Hebrew  commonwealth  during  the  reign  of  Solomon, 
or  even  during  those  later  years  of  his  reign  in  which 
his  rule  grew  hard  and  despotic.  Nothing  can  well  be 
more  incredible  than  that  this  should  be  intended  as 
a  picture  of  his  reign,  save  that  it  should  be  a  picture 
drawn  by  his  own  hand !  To  suppose  Solomon  the 
author  of  this  Scripture  is  to  suppose  that  the  wisest 
of  kings  and  of  men  was  base  enough  to  pen  a 
deliberate  and  malignant  libel  on  himself,  his  time,  and 
his  realm  !  On  the  other  hand,  the  description,  dark 
and  lurid  as  it  is,  exactly  accords  with  all  we  know  of 
the  terrible  condition  of  the  Jews  who  wept  in  captivity 
by  the  waters  of  Babylon  under  the  later  Persian  rule, 
or  were  ground  under  the  heels  of  the  Persian  satraps 
after  their  return  to  the  land  of  their  fathers.  In  all 
probability,  therefore,  as  our  most  competent  autho- 
rities are  agreed,  the  Book  is  a  poem  rather  than  a 
chronicle,    written    by    an    unknown    Hebrew    author, 


INTRODUCTION.  13 


during  the  Captivity  or  shortly  after  the  Return, 
certainly  not  before  B.C.  500,  and  probably  somewhat 
later.^ 

Nor  is  this  inference,  drawn  from  the  style  and 
general  contents  of  the  Book,  unsupported  by  verses 
in  it  which  at  first  sight  seem  altogether  opposed  to 
such  an  inference.  All  the  special  and  direct  indications 
of  authorship  are  to  be  found  either  in  the  first  or  in 
the  last  chapter. 

The  very  first  verse  runs,  "  The  words  of  the 
Preacher,  son  of  David,  King  in  Jerusalem."  Now, 
David  had  only  one  son  who  was  King  in  Jerusalem, 
viz.  Solomon  ;  the  verse,  therefore,  seems  to  fix  the 
authorship  on  Solomon  beyond  dispute.  Nevertheless, 
the  conclusion  is  untenable.     For    (i)  in  his  known 

1  The  fourth  century  B.C.  is,  I  think,  its  most  probable  date. 
In  his  recent  exposition  of  Ecclesiastes,  the  Dean  of  Wells 
attempts  to  bring  the  date  down  to  about  B.C.  240.  But  his 
arguments  are  so  curious  and  fanciful,  and  his  conclusion  is 
based  so  largely  on  conjecture,  and  on  dubious  similarities  of 
phrase  in  the  language  of  the  Hebrew  Preacher,  and  of  some  of 
the  later  philosophers  of  Greece,  that  I  suspect  very  little  weight 
will  be  attached  to  his  gallant  attempt  to  breathe  new  life  into 
the  moribund  hypothesis  of  the  ingenious  Mr.  Tyler.  Delitzsch, 
for  example,  a  high  and  recognized  authority,  declares  that  there 
is  "  not  a  trace  of  Greek  influence  "  in  this  Scripture,  though 
Dr.  Plumptre  finds  so  many.  But  though  neither  his  hypothesis 
nor  his  confessedly  conjectural  biography  of  the  unknown  author 
carries  the  force  of  "  sober  criticism,"  there  is  much  in  his  Com- 
mentary which  will  be  found  very  helpful. 


14  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

and  admitted  works  the  Wise  King  distinctly  claims 
to  be  their  author.  The  Book  of  Proverbs  commences 
with  " The  Proverbs  of  Solomon"  and  the  Canticles 
with  "  The  Song  of  Songs,  which  is  Solomojt's."  But 
the  book  Ecclesiastes  does  not  once  mention  his  name, 
though  it  speaks  of  a  "  son  of  David,"  i.e.  one  of 
David's  descendants.  Instead  of  calling  this  son  of 
David  Solomon,  it  calls  him  "  Coheleth,"  or,  as  we 
translate  the  word,  "  The  Preacher."  Now,  the  word 
Coheleth^  is  not  a  masculine  noun,  as  the  name  of 
a  man  should  be,  but  the  feminine  participle  of  an 
unused  conjugation  of  a  Hebrew  verb  which  means 
"  to  collect,"  or  "  to  call  together."  It  denotes,  not 
an  actual  man,  but  an  abstraction,  a  personification, 
and  is  probably  intended  to  denote  one  who  calls  a 
congregation  round  him,  ie.  a  preacher,  any  preacher, 
preacher  in  the  abstract.  (2)  This  "son  of  David," 
we  are  told,  was  "  King  in  Jerusalem ;  "  and  the  phrase 
implies  that  the  Book  was  written  at  a  time  when  there 
either  were  or  had  been  kings  out  of  Jerusalem,  when 
Jerusalem  was  not  the  only  site  of  a  Hebrew  throne, 
and  therefore  after  the  disruption  of  Solomon's  realm 
into  the  rival  kingdoms  of  Israel  and  Judah.    (3)  Again, 

'  Plumptre  writes  the  word  Koheleth,  and  Perowne  Quoheleth. 
Which  of  the  three  initial  letters  should  be  used  is  of  little  con- 
sequence, and  hence  I  retain  the  form  in  most  common  use. 
Ecclesiastes  is  simply  its  Greek  equivalent. 


INTRODUCTION.  15 


we  find  Coheleth  affirming  (i.  12),  "I  was  King  over 
Israel  in  Jerusalem,"  and  (i.  16),  "I  acquired  greater 
wisdom  than  all  (all  kings,  i.e.,  say  the  critics)  who 
were  before  me  in  Jerusalem."  But  to  say  nothing 
of  the  questionable  modesty  of  the  latter  sentence  if 
it  fell  from  the  pen  of  Solomon,  he  was  only  the  second 
occupant  of  the  throne  in  Jerusalem ;  for  Jebus,  or 
Jerusalem,  was  only  conquered  from  a  Philistine  clan 
by  his  father  David.  And  if  there  had  been  only  one, 
how  could  he  speak  of  "  all "  who  preceded  him  ? 
(4)  And  still  further,  the  tense  of  the  verb  in  "  I  was 
King  over  Israel "  can  only  carry  the  sense  "  I  was 
King,  but  am  King  no  more."  Yet  we  know  that 
Solomon  reigned  over  Israel  to  the  day  of  his  death, 
that  there  never  was  a  day  on  which  he  could  have 
strictly  used  such  a  tense  as  this.  So  clear  and  undis- 
puted is  the  force  of  this  tense  that  the  rabbis,  who 
held  Solomon  to  be  the  author  of  Ecclesiastes,  were 
obliged  to  invent  a  fable  or  tradition  to  account  for  it. 
They  said,  "  When  King  Solomon  was  sitting  on  the 
throne  of  his  kingdom,  his  heart  was  greatly  lifted  up 
within  him  by  his  prosperity,  and  he  transgressed  the 
commandments  of  God,  gathering  to  him  many  horses, 
and  chariots,  and  riders,  amassing  much  gold  and 
silver,  and  marrying  many  wives  of  foreign  extraction. 
Wherefore  the  anger  of  the  Lord  was  kindled  against 
him,  and  He  sent  against  him  Ashmodai,  the  ruler  of 


1 6  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

the  demons ;  and  he  drave  him  from  the  throne  of 
his  kingdom,  and  took  away  the  ring  from  his  hand 
(Solomon's  ring  is  famous  for  its  marvellous  powers  in 
all  Oriental  fable),  and  sent  him  forth  to  wander  about 
the  world.  And  he  went  through  the  villages  and 
cities,  with  a  staff  in  his  hand,  weeping  and  lamenting, 
and  saying,  "  I  am  Coheleth ;  I  was  beforetime  Solomon, 
and  reigned  over  Israel  in  Jerusalem  ;  but  now  I  rule 
over  only  this  staff.' "  It  is  a  pretty  and  pathetic  fable, 
but  it  is  a  fable ;  and  though  it  proves  nothing  else, 
we  may  fairly  infer  from  it  that,  even  in  the  judgment 
of  the  rabbis,  the  book  Ecclesiastes  must,  on  its  own 
showing,  have  been  written  after  Solomon  had  ceased 
to  be  King,  i.e.  after  he  had  ceased  to  live. 

In  the  Epilogue  (xii.  9-12)  the  Author  of  the  Book 
lifts  the  dramatic  mask  from  his  face,  and  permits  us 
to  see  who  he  really  is ;  a  mask,  let  me  add,  somewhat 
carelessly  worn,  since  we  see  nothing  of  it  in  the  last 
ten  chapters  of  the  Book.  Although  he  has  written  in 
a  feigned  name,  and,  without  asserting  it,  has  so 
moulded  his  phrases,  at  least  in  the  earlier  chapters 
of  his  work,  as  to  suggest  to  his  readers  that  he  is,  if 
not  Solomon  himself,  at  least  Solomon's  mouthpiece, 
attributing  the  garnered  results  of  his  experience  to 
one  greater  than  himself,  that  they  may  carry  the 
more  weight — ^just  as  Browning  speaks  in  the  name 
of  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,  for  instance,  or  Era  Lippo  Lippi, 


INTRODUCTION.  17 


or  Abt  Vogler,  borrowing  what  he  can  of  outward  cir- 
cumstance from  the  age  and  class  to  which  they  belong, 
and  yet  really  uttering  his  own  thought  and  emotion 
through  their  lips — he  now  confesses  that  he  is  no 
king  of  an  age  long  past,  but  a  rabbi,  a  sage,  a  teacher, 
a  master,  who  has  both  made  some  proverbs  of  his  own 
and  collected  the  wise  sayings  of  others  who  had  gone 
before  him,  in  order  that  he  might  carry  some  little 
light  and  comfort  to  the  sorely  bested  men  of  his  own 
generation  and  blood. ^  In  short,  he  has  exercised  his 
right  as  a  poet,  or  "maker,"  to  embody  the  results  of 
his  wide  and  varied  experience  of  life  in  a  dramatic 
form,  but  is  careful  to  let  us  know,  before  he  takes 
leave  of  us,  that  it  is  a  fictitious  or  dramatic  Solomon, 
and  not  Solomon  himself,  to  whom  we  have  been 
listening  throughout. 

So  that  all  the  phrases  in  the  Book  which  are  indicative 
of  its  authorship  confirm  the  inference  drawn  from  its 
style  and  its  historical  contents  ;  viz.  that  it  was  not 
written  by  Solomon,  nor  in  his  reign,  but  by  an  unknown 
sage  of  a  long-subsequent  period,  who,  by  a  dramatic 
impersonation  of  the  characteristic  experiences  of  the 
son  of  David,  or  rather  of  his  own  experiences  blended 
with  the  Solomonic  traditions  and  poured  into    their 


'  See  the  commentary  on  these  verses  for  a  fuller  exposition 
of  his  real  claims  and  position. 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


moulds,  sought  to  console  and  instruct  his  oppressed 
fellow-countrymen. 

But  perhaps  the  most  convincing  argument  in  favour 
of  this  conclusion  is  that,  when  once  we  think  of  it,  we 
cannot  possibly  accept  the  Solomon  set  before  us  in 
Ecclesiastes  as  the  Solomon  depicted  in  the  historical 
books  of  Scripture.  Solomon  the  son  of  David,  with 
all  his  wisdom,  played  the  fool.  The  foremost  man 
and  Hebrew  of  his  time,  he  gave  his  heart  to  "  strange 
women,"  and  to  gods  whose  ritual  was  not  only 
idolatrous,  but  cruel,  dark,  impure.  In  his  pursuit 
of  science,  unless  the  whole  East  belie  him,  he  ran 
into  secret  magical  arts,  incantations,  divinations,  an 
occult  intercourse  with  the  powers  of  ill.  In  all  ways 
he  departed  from  the  God  who  had  enriched  him  with 
the  choicest  gifts,  and  sank,  through  luxury,  extrava- 
gance, and  excess,  first  into  a  premature  old  age,^  and 
then  into  a  death  so  unrelieved  by  any  sign  of  peni- 
tence, or  any  promise  of  amendment,  that  from  that 
day  to  this  rabbis  and  divines  have  discussed  his  final 
doom,  many  of  them  leaning  to  the  darker  alternative. 

This 

"  uxorious  king,  whose  heart,  though  ?arge, 

Beguiled  by  fair  idolatresses,  fell 
To  idols  foul," 

1  Solomon  could  not  have  been  more  than  sixty  years  of  age 
when  he  died,  yet  it  was  not  till  he  was  ''old"  that  his  wives 
"  turned  away  his  heart  from  the  Lord  his  God  "  (i  Kings  xi.  4). 


INTRODUCTION.  19 


is  the  Solomon  of  history.  But  the  Solomon  of 
Ecclesiastes  is  a  sage  who  represents  himself  as  con- 
ducting a  series  of  moral  experiments  for  the  good  of 
mankind,  in  order  that,  with  all  the  weight  of  manifold 
experience,  he  may  teach  men  what  is  that  good  and 
right  way  which  alone  leads  to  peace.  However  hardly 
we  may  think  of  the  Wise  King  who  was  guilty  of 
so  many  follies,  we  can  scarcely  think  of  him  as  such 
a  fool  that  he  did  not  know  his  sins  to  be  sins,  or  as 
such  a  knave  that  he  deliberately  endeavoured  to  palm 
them  off  on  other  ages,  not  as  transgressions  of  the 
Divine  Law,  but  as  a  series  of  delicate  philosophic 
experiments  which  he  was  good  enough  to  conduct 
for  the  benefit  of  the  race. 

On  the  whole,  then,  we  conclude  that  in  this  Book 
Solomon  is  taken  as  the  Hebrew  type  of  wisdom,  the 
wisdom  which  is  based  on  large  and  varied  experience ; 
and  that  this  experience  is  here  dramatized,  in  so  far 
as  the  writer  could  conceive  it,  for  the  instruction  of 
a  race  which  from  first  to  last,  from  the  fable  of 
Jotham  to  the  parables  of  our  Lord,  were  accustomed 
to  receive  instruction  in  fictitious  and  dramatic  forms. 
Its  author  was  not  Solomon,  but  one  of  "  the  wise " 
whose  name  can  no  longer  be  recovered  ;  it  was  written, 
not  in  the  time  of  Solomon,'/.^,  about  1000  b.c,  but 
some  five  or  six  centuries  later :  and  it  was  addressed 
not  to  the  wealthy  and  peaceful  citizens  whose  king  held 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


his  court  in  Jerusalem,  but  to  their  degenerate  and 
enfeebled  descendants  during  the  period  of  the  Persian 
supremacy.^ 

Doubtless  many  of  the  prevailing  misapprehensions 
of  the  meaning,  authorship,  and  animating  spirit  of  the 
Book  are  due,  in  some  measure,  to  the  singular  form 
into  which  it  is  thrown.  It  belongs  to  what  is  known 
as  the  Chokma,  i.e.  the  Gnomic  school,  as  opposed  to 
the  Lyrical  school  of  Hebrew  poetry.  The  Jewish, 
like  Oriental  literature  in  general,  early  assumed  this 
form,  which  seems  to  have  a  natural  affinity  with  the 
Eastern  mind.  Grave  men,  who  made  a  study  of  life  or 
who  devoted  themselves  to  a  life  of  study,  were  likely 
to  be  sententious,  to  compress  much  thought  into  few 
words,  especially  in  the  ages  in  which  writing  was  a 
somewhat  rare  accomplishment,  or  in  which,  as  in  the 
Hebrew  schools,  instruction  was  given  by  a  living 
voice.  No  doubt  they  began  with  coining  sage  or 
witty  aphorisms,  generally  lit  up  with  a  happy  metaphor, 
each  of  which  was  complete  in  itself.  Such  sayings, 
as  memorable  and  portable,  no  less  than  as  striking 
for  beauty  and  "  matterful "  for  meditation,  would 
commend  themselves  to  an  age  in  which  books  were 

'  "  It  may  be  regarded  as  beyond  doubt  that  it  was  written 
under  the  Persian  domination  "  (DeHtzsch). 


INTRODUCTION, 


few  and  scarce.  They  are  to  be  found  in  abundance 
in  the  proverbs  of  all  ancient  races,  and  in  the  Book  of 
Proverbs  vi^hich  bears  the  name  of  Solomon,  and  many 
of  the  more  didactic  and  elaborate  Psalms ;  v^^hile  the 
Book  of  Job  preserves  many  of  the  sayings  current 
among  the  Arabs  and  the  Egyptians.  But  with  the 
Hebrews  this  literary  mode  took  what  is,  so  far  as  I 
am  aware,  a  singular  and  unparalleled  development,  from 
the  time  of  Solomon  onwards,  rising  to  its  highest 
pitch  in  the  Book  of  Job,  and  sinking  to  its  lowest — 
within  the  limits  of  the  Canon  at  least — ^in  the  cramping 
over-ingenuities  of  the  acrostic  Psalms,  and  in  such 
proverbs  as  those  attributed  to  Agur  the  son  of 
Jakeh. 

This  development  has  not  as  yet,  I  think,  attracted 
the  attention  it  deserves ;  at  least  I  have  nowhere  met 
with  any  formal  recognition  of  it.  Yet,  undoubtedly, 
while  at  first  the  Hebrew  sages  were  content  to 
compress  much  wit  or  wisdom  into  the  small  compass 
of  a  gnome,  which  they  polished  like  a  gem,  leaving 
each  to  shine  by  its  own  lustre  and  to  make  its  own 
unaided  impression,  there  rose  in  process  of  time  men 
who  saw  new  and  great  capacities  in  this  ancient 
literary  form,  and  set  themselves  to  string  their  gems 
together,  to  arrange  their  own  or  other  men's  proverbs 
so  aptly  and  artistically  that  they  enhanced  each  other's 
beauty,  while  at  the  same  time  they  compelled  thera 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


to  carry  a  logical  and  continuous  stream  of  thought,  to 
paint  an  elaborate  picture,  to  build  up  a  lofty  yet 
breathing  personification  (that  of  Wisdom,  for  example, 
in  Proverbs  viii.),  to  describe  a  lengthened  and  varied 
ethical  experience  (as  in  Ecclesiastes),  and  even  to 
weave  them  into  a  large  and  sublime  poem,  like  that  of 
Job,  which  has  never  been  excelled.  The  reluctance 
with  which  this  form  lends  itself  to  the  nobler  functions 
of  literature,  the  immense  difficulty  of  the  instrument 
which  many  of  the  Hebrew  poets  wielded,  will  become 
apparent  to  any  one  who  should  try  the  experiment. 
We  have  a  goodly  collection  of  proverbs,  drawn  from 
many  sources,  foreign  as  well  as  native,  in  the  English 
tongue.  Let  any  man  endeavour  so  to  set  or  arrange 
them,  or  a  selection  from  them,  as  to  produce  a 
fine  poem  on  a  lofty  theme,  and  he  at  least  will  not 
underrate  the  difficulty  of  the  task,  even  though  we 
should  concede  to  him  the  right  to  make  proverbs 
where  he  could  not  find  them  to  his  mind.  Yet  to 
many  of  the  finest  Hebrew  poets  the  very  restrictions 
of  this  form  seem  to  have  possessed  a  charm  such  as 
the  far  less  rigid  and  encumbering  laws  of  the  sonnet, 
or  even  of  the  triolet  and  other  fanciful  poetic  wares  of 
modern  times,  have  exerted  on  the  minds  of  many  of 
our  own    poets.'^     A   careful   student  of  the    Chokma 

1  The  nearest  analogy  in  English  literature  to  this  triumphant 


INTRODUCTION.  23 


school  might  even,  I  believe,  trace  the  growth  of  this 
art,  from  its  small  beginnings  in  the  earlier  gnomic 
sayings  of  the  Wise,  to  its  culmination  in  the  Book  or 
Job ;  and,  in  so  doing,  would  confer  a  boon  on  all 
students  of  Holy  Writ.^ 

It  is  to  this  school  that  the  Preacher  belongs,  as  he 
himself  informs  us  in  the  Epilogue  to  his  fine  Poem. 
He  set  himself,  he  says,  "  to  compose,  to  collect,  and  to 
arrange  many  proverbs  "  (xii.  9),  rejecting  any  that  were 
not  "words  of  truth,"  preferring,  as  was  natural  in  a 
time  so  dark,  such  as  were  "  words  of  comfort "  (xii.  10), 
and  seeking  his  sayings  both  from  the  sages  who  stood 
by  the  old  ways  and  those  who  looked  for  the  new 
(xii.  11).     And,  of  course,  the  arranging  of  his  awkward 


use  of  the  prov^erb  of  which  I  can  think  is  Pope's  use  of  the 
couplet — in  every  way  a  much  lesser  feat,  however;  while  its 
burlesque  or  caricature  may  be  found  in  Tupper's  Proverbiao 
Philosophy. 

1  In  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  for  instance,  he  would  find,  in 
addition  to  the  incomparable  personification  of  Wisdom  to  which 
I  have  already  referred,  many  examples  of  the  proverb  proper, 
many  detached  sayings  whose  underlying  thought  is  illustrated 
by  a  stroke  of  imagination  ;  such  as  that  (chap.  xxv.  11)  in  which 
the  enhanced  beauty  of  an  appropriate  word  when  spoken  at  the 
opportune  moment  is  compared  with  the  golden  fruit  of  the 
orange  when  set  in  its  frame  of  silver  blooms  (Expositions,  vol. 
iv.).  He  would  also  find  some  of  those  small  picturesque 
descriptions  produced  by  an  artistic  sequence  of  proverbs — the 
same  theme  being  sometimes  worked  over  by  different  artists,  in 


24  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

and  inelastic  material  was  far  more  difficult  than  collect- 
ing it — arranging  it  so  as  to  compel  it  to  tell  his  story, 
and  carry  his  argument  to  its  lofty  close.  It  is  Story, 
the  sculptor  and  poet,  I  believe,  who  says  that  "  the  best 
part  of  every  work  of  art  is  unseen,"  unexpressed, 
inexpressible  in  tones,  or  verse,  or  colours :  it  is  that 
invisible  something  which  lends  it  dignity,  spirit,  life, 
that  "  style "  which,  in  this  case,  is  in  very  deed  the 
man.  And  the  best  part  of  Coheleth's  noble  work  is 
this  art  of  arranging  his  gnomic  sayings  in  the  best 
order,  the  order  in  which  they  illuminate  each  other 
most  brightly  and  contribute  most  effectively  to  the 
total  impression.  Hence,  both  in  translating  and  in 
endeavouring  to  interpret  him,  whenever  I  have  had  to 


different  ages,  one  and  the  same  moral  being  enforced  by 
wholly  different  designs  ;  as,  for  instance,  where  Solomon  (chap 
vi.  6-1 1)  enforces  the  duty  of  a  forethoughtful  industry  by  a 
picture  of  the  ant  and  her  prudent  ways  ;  while  an  unknown  sage 
of  a  later  date  (chap.  xxiv.  30-34)  appends  precisely  the  same 
moral,  expressed  in  the  same  words,  to  his  graphic  picture  of 
the  Sluggard's  garden  (The  Expositor,  Second  Scries,  vol.  vi.). 
Moreover,  if  he  turn  to  chapter  xxx.  he  will  see  how  this  form 
of  art,  which  once  soared  so  high,  was  capable  of  sinking  into  a 
kind  of  puerile  conundrum — with  its  three  too  wonderful  things, 
and  its  four  little  things  which  yet  are  wise — while  its  moral  tone 
remained  pure  and  high.  And,  finally,  in  the  exposition  of  the 
Epilogue  to  Ecclesiastes  he  will  find  how,  after  sinking  so  low, 
it  rose  once -more,  in  the  hands  of  the  later  rabbis,  into  many 
beautiful  forms  of  fable,  and  exhortation,  and  parable. 


INTRODUCTION.  25 


choose  between  rival  renderings  or  meanings,  I  have 
made  it  a  rule  to  prefer  that  which  most  conduced  to 
the  logical  sequence  of  his  work  or  carried  the  finer 
sense,  deeming  that  at  least  so  much  as  this  was  due 
to  so  great  a  master,  and  entertaining  no  fear  that  I 
could  invent  any  meaning  which  would  outrun  his 
intention. 

In  fine,  if  I  were  to  gather  up  into  a  few  sentences 
the  impression  which  "  much  study  "  of  this  Scripture 
has  left  on  my  mind  as  to  the  manner  in  which  the 
author  worked  upon  it,  I  should  say :  that  Coheleth,  a 
man  of  much  of  Solomon's  original  "  largeness  of  heart " 
and  a  great  lover  of  wisdom,  set  himself  to  collect 
the  scattered  sayings  of  the  sages  who  were  before 
him.  He  took  the  traditional  story  of  Solomon  as  the 
ground  and  framework  of  his  poem,  at  least  at  the 
outset,  though  he  seems  to  have  soon  laid  it  aside,  and 
endeavoured  so  to  assort  and  arrange  the  proverbs  he 
had  collected  that  each  would  lead  up  to  the  next ;  while 
each  group  of  them  would  describe  some  of  the  ways  in 
which  men  commonly  pursued  the  chief  good,  ways  in 
most  of  which  Solomon  was  at  least  reputed  to  have 
travelled  far.  Finding  gaps  which  could  not  be  well 
filled  up  from  his  large  and  various  collection,  he 
bridged  them  over  with  proverbs  of  his  own  composing, 
till  he  had  got  a  sufficient  account  of  each  of  the  main 
adventures  of  that  Quest.     And,  then,  he  put  adventure 


26  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

after  adventure  together  in  the  order  in  which  they  best 
led  up  to  his  great  conclusion. 

In  all  this  I  have  said  nothing,  it  is  true,  of  that 
"  inspiration  of  the  Almighty  "  which  alone  gives  man 
understanding  of  spiritual  things.  But  why  should 
not  "  He  who  worketh  all,"  and  has  deigned  to  use 
every  form  of  literary  art  by  which  men  teach  their 
fellows,  move  and  inspire  a  lover  of  wisdom  to  collect 
and  arrange  the  sayings  of  the  Wise,  if  by  these  he 
could  carry  truth  and  comfort  to  those  who  were  in  sore 
need  of  both  ?  And  where,  save  from  heaven  and  from 
Him  who  rules  in  heaven,  could  Coheleth  have  learned 
the  great  secret — the  secret  of  a  retributive  life  beyond 
the  grave  ?  Even  the  best  and  wisest  of  the  Hebrews 
saw  that  life  only  "  as  through  a  glass,  darkly ; "  and 
even  their  fitful  and  imperfect  conception  of  it  seems 
always  to  have  been — as  in  the  case  of  David,  Job, 
Isaiah — an  immediate  gift  from  God,  and  a  gift  so  large 
that  even  their  hands  of  faith  could  hardly  grasp  it. 
No  one  need  doubt  the  inspiration  of  a  Scripture  which 
affirms,  not  only  that  God  is  always  with  us,  passing 
a  present  and  effective  judgment  on  all  we  do,  but  also 
that,  when  this  life  is  over.  He  will  bring  every  deed 
and  every  secret  thing  into  judgment,  whether  it  be 
good  or  whether  it  be  bad.  That  was  not  an  every- 
day thought  with  the  Jewish  mind.  We  find  it  only  in 
men  who  were  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost  to  accept  the 


INTRODUCTION.  27 


teaching   of  his    providence    or   the    revelation  of  his 
grace. 

As  for  the  design  of  the  Book,  no  one  now  doubts  that 
it  sets  before  us  the  search  for  the  summum  bonum,  the 
quest  of  the  Chief  Good.  Its  main  immediate  intention 
was  to  deliver  the  exiled  Jews  from  the  misleading 
ethical  theories  and  habits  into  which  they  had  fallen, 
from  the  sensualism  and  the  scepticism  occasioned  by 
their  imperfect  conception  of  the  Divine  ways,  by  show- 
ing them  that  the  true  good  of  life  is  not  to  be  secured  by 
philosophy,  by  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  by  devotion  to 
traffic  or  public  affairs,  by  amassing  wealth ;  but  that  it 
results  from  a  temperate  and  thankful  enjoyment  of  the 
gifts  of  the  Divine  bounty,  and  a  cheerful  endurance  of 
toil  and  calamity,  combined  with  a  sincere  service 
of  God  and  a  steadfast  faith  in  that  future  life  in  which 
all  wrongs  will  be  righted  and  all  the  problems  which 
now  task  and  afflict  us  will  receive  a  triumphant  solution. 
Availing  himself  of  the  historical  and  traditional  records 
of  Solomon's  life,  he  depicts,  under  that  disguise,  the 
moral  experiments  which  he  has  conducted ;  depicts 
himself  as  having  put  the  claims  of  wisdom,  mirth, 
business,  wealth,  to  a  searching  test,  and  found  them 
incompetent  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  the  soul;  as 
attaining  no  rest  nor  peace  until  he  had  learned  a  simple 
enjoyment  of  simple  pleasures,  a  patient  constancy  under 


28  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

heavy  trials,  heartfelt  devotion  to  the  service  of  God, 
and  an  unwavering  faith  in  the  life  to  come. 

The  contents  of  the  Poem  are,  or  may  be,  distributed 
into  a  Prologue,  Four  Acts  or  Sections,  and  an  Epilogue. 

In  the  Prologue  (chap,  i.,  vv.  i-ii),  Coheleth  states 
the  Problem  to  be  solved. 

In  the  First  Section  (chap,  i.,  ver.  12 — chap,  ii.,  ver. 
26),  he  depicts  the  endeavour  to  solve  it  by  seeking  the 
Chief  Good  in  Wisdom  and  in  Pleasure. 

In  the  Second  Section  (chap,  iii.,  ver.  i — chap,  v., 
ver.  20),  the  Quest  is  pursued  in  Traffic  and  Political 
Life. 

In  the  Third  Section  (chap,  vi.,  ver.  i — chap,  viii., 
ver.  15),  the  Quest  is  carried  into  Wealth  and  the 
Golden  Mean. 

In  the  Fourth  Section  (chap,  viii.,  ver.  16 — chap,  xii., 
ver.  7),  the  Quest  is  achieved,  and  the  Chief  Good 
found  to  consist  in  a  tranquil  and  cheerful  enjoyment 
of  the  present,  combined  with  a  cordial  faith  in  the 
future,  life. 

And  in  the  Epilogue  (chap,  xii.,  vv.  8-14)  he  sum- 
marises and  emphatically  repeats  this  solution  of  the 
Problem. 

It  was  very  natural  that  the  Problem  here  discussed 
should   fill    a   large   space    in    Hebrew    thought    and 


INTRODUCTION.  29 


literature;  that  it  should  be  the  theme  of  many  of  the 
Psalms  and  of  many  of  the  prophetic  "  burdens,"  as  well 
as  of  the  Books  Ecclesiastes  and  Job.  For  the  Mosaic 
revelation  did  teach  that  virtue  and  vice  v^^ould  meet 
suitable  rewards  now,  in  this  present  time.  At  the 
giving  of  the  Law  Jehovah  announced  that  He  would 
show  mercy  to  the  thousands  of  those  who  kept  his 
commandments,  and  that  He  would  visit  the  iniquities 
of  the  disobedient  upon  them.  The  Law  that  came  by 
Moses  is  crowded  with  promises  of  temporal  good  to 
the  righteous,  and  with  threatenings  of  temporal  evil 
to  the  unrighteous.  The  fulfilment  of  these  threaten- 
ings and  promises  is  carefully  marked  in  the  Hebrew 
chronicles ;  it  is  the  supplication  which  breathes 
through  the  recorded  prayers  of  the  Hebrew  race,  and 
the  theme  of  their  noblest  songs ;  it  is  their  hope  and 
consolation  under  the  heaviest  calamities.  What,  then, 
could  be  more  bewildering  to  a  godly  and  reflective 
Jew  than  to  discover  that  this  fundamental  article  of 
his  faith  was  questionable,  nay,  that  it  was  contradicted 
by  the  commonest  facts  of  human  life  as  life  grew 
more  complex  and  involved  ?  When  he  saw  the 
righteous  driven  before  the  blasts  of  adversity  like  a 
withered  leaf,  while  the  wicked  lived  out  all  their  days 
in  mirth  and  affluence  ;  when  he  saw  the  only  nation 
that  attempted  obedience  to  the  Law  groaning  under 
the   miseries   of  a   captivity  embittered  by  the   cruel 


30  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


caprices  of  rulers  who  could  not  even  rule  themselves, 
and  unrelieved  by  any  hope  of  deliverance,  while 
heathen  races  revelled  in  the  lusts  of  sense  and  power 
unrebuked:  when  tJiis  seemed  to  be  the  rule  of  provi- 
dence, the  law  of  the  Divine  administration,  and  not  that 
better  rule  revealed  in  his  Scriptures,  is  it  any  wonder 
that,  forgetting  all  corrective  and  balancing  facts,  he 
was  racked  with  torments  of  perplexity ;  that,  while 
some  of  his  fellows  plunged  into  the  base  relief  of 
sensualism,  he  should  be  plagued  with  doubts  and 
fears,  and  search  eagerly  through  all  avenues  of 
thought  for  some  solution  of  the  mystery  ? 

Nor,  indeed,  is  this  problem  without  interest  for  us  ; 
for  we  as  persistently  misinterpret  the  New  Testament 
as  the  Hebrews  did  the  Old.  We  read  that  "whatso- 
ever a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap  ;  "  we  read 
that  "  the  meek  shall  inherit  the  earth  ; "  we  read  that 
for  every  act  of  service  done  to  Christ  we  shall  receive 
"  a  hundredfold  now,  in  this  present  time ; "  and  we  are 
very  prompt  with  the  gross,  careless  interpretation 
which  makes  such  passages  mean  that  if  we  are  good 
we  shall  have  the  good  things  of  this  life,  while  its  evil 
things  shall  be  reserved  for  the  evil.  Indeed,  we  are 
trained — or,  perhaps  I  should  say,  until  recently  we 
were  trained — in  this  interpretation  from  our  earhest 
years.  Our  very  spelling-books  are  full  of  it,  and  are 
framed  on  the  model  of  "  Johnny  was  a  good  boy,  and 


INTRODUCTION. 


he  got  plum-cake ;  but  Tommy  was  a  bad  boy,  and  he 
got  the  stick."  Nearly  all  our  story-books  have  a 
similar  moral  :  it  is  always,  or  almost  always,  the  good 
young  man  who  gets  the  beautiful  wife  and  large  estate, 
while  the  bad  young  man  comes  to  a  bad  end.  Our 
proverbs  are  full  of  it,  and  axioms  such  as  "  Honesty 
is  the  best  policy,"  a  pernicious  half-truth,  are  for  ever 
on  our  lips.  Our  art,  in  so  far  as  it  is  ours,  is  in 
the  same  conspiracy.  In  Hogarth,  for  instance,  as 
Thackeray  has  pointed  out,  it  is  always  Francis 
Goodchild  who  comes  to  be  Lord  Mayor  and  poor  Jem 
Scapegrace  who  comes  to  the  gallows.  And  when,  as 
life  passes  on,  we  discover  that  it  is  the  bad  boy  who 
often  gets  the  plum-cake,  and  the  good  boy  who  goes  to 
the  rod  ;  that  bad  men  often  have  beautiful  wives  and 
large  estates,  while  good  men  fail  of  both ;  when  we 
find  the  knave  rising  to  place  and  authority,  and  honest 
Goodchild  in  the  workhouse  or  the  Gazette,  then  there 
rise  up  in  our  hearts  the  very  doubts  and  perplexities 
and  eager  painful  questions  which  of  old  time  troubled 
the  Psalmist  and  the  Prophet.     We  cry  out  with  Job — 

"  It  is  all  one — therefore  will  I  say  it, 
The  guilty  and  the  guiltless  He  treateth  alike ; 
The  deceiver  and  the  deceived  both  are  his ;  " 

or  we  say  with  the  Preacher, — 

"  This  is  the  greatest  evil  of  all  that  is  done  under  the  sun 
That  there  is  one  fate  for  all ; 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


The  same  fate  befalleth  to  the  righteous  and  to  the  wicked, 

To  the  good  and  pure  and  to  the  impure, 
To  him  that  sacrificeth  and  to  him  that  sacrificeth  not : 

As  is  the  good  so  is  the  sinner. 
And  he  that  sweareth  as  he  that  feareth  an  oath." 

And  it  is  well  for  us  if,  like  the  Hebrew  poet,  we 
can  resist  this  cruel  temptation,  and  hold  fast  the 
integrity  of  our  faith ;  if  we  can  rest  in  the  assurance 
that,  after  all  and  when  all  is  done,  "  the  little  that 
a  righteous  man  hath  is  better  than  the  riches  of  many 
wicked;"  that  God  has  something  better  than  wealth 
and  lucky  haps  for  the  good,  and  merciful  cor- 
rectives of  a  more  sovereign  potency  than  penury  and 
mishaps  for  the  wicked.  If  we  have  this  faith,  our 
study  of  Ecclesiastes  can  hardly  fail  to  deepen  and 
confirm  it ;  if  we  are  not  so  happy  as  to  have  it, 
Coheleth  will  give  us  sound  reasons  for  embracing  it. 

§  2.  ON   THE  HISTORY  OF    THE   CAPTIVITY. 

If  we  may  now  assume  the  Book  Ecclesiastes  to 
have  been  written,  not  in  the  time  of  Solomon,  but 
during,  or  soon  after,  the  Babylonian  Captivity,  our 
next  duty  is  to  learn  what  we  can  of  the  social,  political, 
and  religious  conditions  of  the  two  races  among  whom 
the  Jews  were  thrown  when  they  were  carried  away 
from  the  land  of  their  fathers.  That  they  learned 
much,  as  well  as  suffered  much,  while  they  sat  by  the 


INTRODUCTION.  33 


waters  of  Babylon  ;  that  they  emerged  from  their  long 
exile  with  a  profound  attachment  to  the  Word  of  God, 
such  as  their  fathers  had  never  known,  and  with  many 
precious  additions  to  that  Word,  is  beyond  a  doubt. 
As  plants  grow  fastest  by  night,  so  men  make  their 
most  rapid  growth  in  knowledge  and  in  faith  when 
times  are  dark  and  troubled.  And  all  students  of  this 
period  are  at  one  in  affirming  that  during  the  Captivity 
a  radical  and  most  happy  change  passed  upon  the 
Hebrew  mind.  They  came  out  of  it  with  a  hatred  of 
idolatry,  a  faith  in  the  life  beyond  the  grave,  a  pride  in 
their  national  Law,  a  hope  in  the  advent  of  the  great 
Deliverer  and  Redeemer,  with  which  the  elder  Psalmists 
and  Prophets  had  failed  to  inspire  them,  but  which  hence- 
forth they  never«wholly  relinquished.  With  the  religious 
there  was  blended  an  intellectual  advance.  Books  and 
teachers  were  sought  and  honoured  as  never  hereto- 
fore. Schools  and  synagogues  grew  up  in  every  town 
and  village  in  which  they  dwelt.  "  Of  making  of  many 
books  there  was  no  end."  Education  was  compulsory. 
Study  was  regarded  as  more  meritorious  than  sacrifice, 
a  scholar  as  greater  than  a  prophet,  a  teacher  as  greater 
than  a  king,  if  at  least  we  may  trust  proverbs  which 
were  current  among  them.  Before  the  Captivity  one 
of  the  least  literate  of  nations — noble  as  their  national 
literature  was,  at  its  close  the  Jews  were  distinguished 
by  their  zeal  for  culture  and  education. 

3 


34  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

To  trace  the  progress  of  this  marvellous  revival  of 
letters  and  religion — a  renaissance  and  a  reformation 
in  one — would  be  a  most  welcome  task,  had  we  the 
materials  for  it  and  the  skill  to  use  them.  But  even 
the  scanty  materials  that  exist  lie  scattered  through  the 
historical  and  literary  remains  of  many  different  races 
— in  the  cylinders,  sculptures,  paintings,  inscriptions, 
tombs,  shrines  of  Nineveh,  Babylon,  Behistun,  and 
Persepolis,  in  the  Zendavesta,  in  the  pages  of  Herodotus 
and  the  earlier  Greek  historians,  in  Josephus,  in  the 
Apocrypha,  in  the  Talmud,  and  in  at  least  a  dozen 
of  the  Old  Testament  books ;  and  some  of  these 
"  sources "  are  very  far  as  yet  from  having  been  ex- 
plored and  mastered.  Hence  the  history  of  this  period 
still  remains  to  be  written,  and  will  probably  be  largely 
conjectural  whenever,  if  ever,  it  is  written.  Yet  what 
period  is  of  graver  interest  to  the  student  of  the  Bible  ? 
If  we  could  recover  its  history,  it  would  throw  a  new 
and  most  welcome  light  on  well-nigh  one-half  of  the 
Old  Testament  Scriptures,  if  not  on  all. 

Happily,  a  brief  sketch  of  it,  such  as  is  well  within 
any  man's  reach,  will  suffice  to  show  how,  from  their 
contact  with  the  Babylonian  and  Persian  races,  the 
Jews  received  literary  and  religious  impulses  which  go 
far  to  account  for  the  marvellous  changes  which' swept 
over  them,  and  enable  us  to  read  the  Preacher  in- 
telligently,   and    see    how    his    social     and    political 


INTRODUCTION. 


allusions  exactly  correspond  with  what  we  know  of  the 
time.-^ 

About  a  hundred  and  twenty  years  after  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  kingdom  of  Israel  by  Shalmaneser,  King  of 
Assyria  (b.c.  719),  the  kingdom  of  Judah  fell  before 
Nebuchadnezzar,  King  of  Babylon  (b.c.  598-596). 
The  city,  palace,  and  temple  of  Jerusalem  were  levelled 
in  a  common  ruin  ;  the  nobles,  priests,  merchants,  and 
skilled  artisans,  all  the  pith  and  manhood  of  Judah, 
were  carried  away  captive  ;  only  a  few  of  the  most 
abject  of  the  people  were  left  to  mourn  and  starve 
amid  the  ravaged  fields.  Nothing  could  present  a  more 
striking  contrast  to  their  native  land  than  the  region 
to  which  the  Jews  were  deported.  Instead  of  a  small 
picturesque  mountain-country,  with  its  little  cities  set 
on  hills  or  on  the  brink  of  precipitous  ravines,  they 
entered  on  a  vast  plain,  fertile  beyond  all  precedent 
indeed,  and  abounding  in  streams,  but  with  nothing 
to  break  the  monotony  of  level  flats  save  the  high 
w^alls  and  lofty  towers  of  one  enormous  city.  For 
Babylonia  proper  was  simply  an  immense  plain,  lying 
between  the  Arabian  Desert  and  the  Tigris,  and  of  an 
extent  somewhat  under  that  of  Ireland.     But  though 

1  For  this  sketch  I  am  largely  indebted  to  Ravvlinson's  Five 
Great  Monarchies  of  tfie  Ancient  Eastern  World,  and  his  com- 
mentary on  Herodotus. 


36  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

of  a  limited  area  as  compared  with  the  vast  empire 
of  which  it  was  the  centre,  by  its  amazing  fertihty  it 
was  capable  of  sustaining  a  crowded  population.  It 
was  watered  not  only  by  the  great  rivers  Tigris  and 
Euphrates,  but  by  their  numerous  afQuents,  many  of 
which  were  themselves  considerable  streams  ;  it  was  "  a 
land  of  brooks  and  fountains."  On  this  rich  alluvial 
plain,  amply  supplied  with  water,  and  under  the  fierce 
heat  of  the  sun,  wheat  and  barley,  with  all  kinds  of 
grain,  yielded  a  return  far  beyond  all  modern  parallel. 
The  capital  city  of  this  fertile  province  was  the  largest 
and  the  most  magnificent  of  the  ancient  world,  standing 
on  both  sides  of  the  Euphrates,  as  London  stands  on 
both  sides  of  the  Thames,  and  covering  at  least  a  hundred 
square  miles. 

In  this  country  and  city  (for  "  Babylon  "  stands  for 
both  in  the  Bible),  so  unlike  the  sunny  cliffs  and 
scattered  villages  of  their  native  home,  the  Jews,  who, 
like  all  hill-races,  cherished  a  passionate  affection  for 
the  land  of  their  fathers,  spent  many  bitter  years. 
On  the  broad  featureless  plain  they  pined  for  "  the 
mountains  "  of  Judea  (Ezekiel  xxxvi. ;  Psalm  cxxxvii.)  ; 
they  sat  down  by  the  waters  and  wept  as  they  remem- 
bered "  the  hill  of  the  Lord."  They  do  not  seem, 
however,  to  have  been  handled  with  exceptional  harsh- 
ness by  their  captors.  They  were  treated  as  colonists 
rather   than   as   slaves.      They  were   allowed  to  live 


INTRODUCTION.  37 


together  in  considerable  numbers,  and  to  observe 
their  own  religious  rites.  They,  took  the  advice 
of  the  prophet  Jeremiah  (xxix.  4-7),  who  had  warned 
them  that  their  exile  would  extend  over  many  years, 
and  built  houses,  planted  gardens,  married  wives, 
and  brought  up  children ;  they  "  sought  the  peace  of 
the  city"  in  which  they  were  captives,  "and  prayed 
for  it,"  knowing  that  in  its  peace  they  would  have 
peace.  If  many  of  them  had  to  labour  gratuitously 
on  the  great  public  works — and  this  labour  was  exacted 
of  most  of  the  conquered  races — many  rose,  by  fidelity, 
thrift,  diligence,  to  places  of  trust,  and  amassed  con- 
siderable wealth.  Among  those  who  filled  high  posts 
in  the  household  or  administration  of  the  successive 
monarchs  of  Babylon  were  Daniel,  Hananiah,  Mishael, 
and  Azariah ;  Zerubbabel,  Ezra,  Nehemiah,  and  Mor- 
decai ;  Tobit — if  indeed  Tobit  be  a  real  and  not  a 
fictitious  person — and  his  nephew  Achiacharus. 

But  who  were  the  people,  and  what  were  the  social 
and  political  conditions  of  the  people,  among  whom 
the  Hebrew  captives  lived  ?  The  two  leading  races 
with  whom  they  were  brought  in  contact  were  the 
Babylonians — an  offshoot  from  the  ancient  Chaldean 
stock — and  the  Persians.  The  history  of  the  Captivity 
divides  itself  into  two  main  periods,  therefore,  the 
Persian  and  the  Babylonian,  at  each  of  which  we 
must  glance. 


38  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

I.  The  Babylonian  Period. — For  more  than  fifty 
years  after  they  were  carried  away  captive,  the  Jews 
served  a  Chaldean  race,  and  were  governed  by  Assyrian 
despots,  of  whom  Nebuchadnezzar^  was  by  far  the 
greatest  whether  in  peace  or  war.  It  is  hardly  too 
much  to  say  that  but  for  him  the  Babylonians  would 
have  had  no  place  in  history.  A  great  soldier,  a  great 
statesman,  a  great  builder  and  engineer,  he  knew  how 
to  consolidate  and  adorn  his  vast  empire,  an  empire 
which  is  said  to  have  "extended  from  the  Atlantic  to 
the  Caspian,  and  from  Caucasus  to  the  Great  Sahara." 
We  owe  our  best  conception  of  the  personal  character 
and  public  life  of  this  great  despot  to  the  Book  of 
Daniel.  Daniel,  although  a  Jew  and  a  captive,  was 
the  vizier  of  the  Babylonian  monarch,  and  retained 
his  post  until  the  Persian  conquest,  when  he  became 
the  first  of  "  the  three  presidents  "  of  the  new  empire. 
He  therefore  paints  Nebuchadnezzar  from  the  life. 
And  in  his  Book  we  see  the  great  King  at  the  head 
of  a  magnificent  court,  surrounded  by  "  princes, 
governors,  and  captains,  judges,  treasurers,  councillors, 
and  sheriffs,"  waited  on  by  "well-favoured"  eunuchs, 
attended  by  a  crowd  of  astrologers  and  "  wise  men " 
who  interpret  to  him  the  will  of  Heaven.     He  wields 

'  Instead  of  Nebuchadnezzar  Jeremiah  and  Ezekiel  use  the 
form  Nebuchadrezzar,  which  is  nearer  to  the  original  Nabu- 
Kuduri-utzur,  i.e.  "  Nebo  is  the  portector  against  misfortune." 


INTRODUCTION.  39 


an  absolute  power,  and  disposes  with  a  word  of  the 
lives  and  fortunes    of  his  subjects,  even  the  highest 
and  most  princely.      All  offices  are  in  his  gift.      He 
can  raise  a  slave  to  the  second  place  in  his  kingdom 
(Daniel,  to  wit),  and  impose  a  foreigner  (again,  Daniel) 
on  the  priestly  college  as  its  head.     Of  so  enormous 
a  wealth  that  he  makes  an  image  of  pure  gold  ninety 
feet  high  and  nine  feet  broad,  he  lavishes  it  on  public 
works — on    temples,    gardens,    canals,    fortifications — 
rather   than  on  personal  indulgence.     Religious  after 
a  fashion,  he  wavers  between  "the  God  of  the  Jews" 
and  the  deity  after  whom  he  was  named  and  whom  he 
calls  his  god.     In  temper  he  is  hasty  and  violent,  but 
not   obstinate;    he   suddenly   repents   of   his    sudden 
resolves ;    he   is   capable   of  bursts  of  gratitude  and 
devotion  no  less  than  of  fierce  accesses  of  fury,   and 
displays  at  times  a  piety  and  self-abasement  astonishing 
in  an  Oriental  despot.    His  successors — Evil-Merodach, 
Neriglissar,  Laborosoarchod,  Nabonadius,  and  Belshaz- 
zar — need  not  detain  us.     Little  is  known  of  them,  and, 
with  one  exception,  their  reigns  were  very  short ;  and 
their  main  task  seems  to  have  been  the  erection  of  vast 
and  sumptuous  structures  such  as  Nebuchadnezzar  had 
been  wont  to  rear.     Probably  none  of  the  Babylonian 
monarchs  save  Nebuchadnezzar  made  any  deep  impres- 
sion on  the  Hebrew  mind. 

And,  indeed,  the  people  of  Babylon  were  much  more 


40  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

likely  than  their  despots  to  influence  the  Hebrew 
captives;  for  with  them  they  would  be  brought  into 
daily  contact.  Now  the  Babylonians  were  marked  by  a 
singular  intellectual  ability.  Keen  to  know,  patient  to 
observe,  exact  and  laborious  in  their  researches,  they 
could  hardly  fail  to  teach  much  to  subject  races,  and 
to  inspire  them  with  some  desire  for  knowledge.  They 
had  carried  the  sciences  of  mathematics  and  astronomy 
to  a  high  pitch  of  perfection.  They  are  said  to  have 
determined,  within  two  seconds,  the  exact  length  of  the 
solar  year,  and  not  to  have  been  far  wrong  in  the 
distances  at  which  they  computed  the  sun,  moon  and 
planets  from  the  earth  ;  and  they  compiled  a  service- 
able catalogue  of  the  fixed  stars.  The  Hebrew  prophets 
often  refer  to  their  "  wisdom  and  learning."  They 
excelled  in  architecture.  Two  of  their  vast  works,  the 
walls  of  Babylon,  and  the  hanging  gardens,  were 
reckoned  among  "  the  seven  wonders  "  of  the  ancient 
world.  Their  skill  in  manufacturing  and  arranging 
enamelled  bricks  has  never  yet  been  equalled.-'  In  all 
mechanical  arts,  indeed,  such  as  cutting  stones  and 
gems,  casting  gold  and  silver,  blowing  glass,  modelling 
vases  and  ware,  weaving  carpets  and  muslins  and 
linen,  they  take  a  very  high  place  among  the  nations  of 

1  There  is  a  curious  allusion  to  these  enamelled  bricks,  and 
the  admiration  the  Jews  conceived  for  them,  in  Ezekiel  xxiii. 
14-16. 


INTRODUCTION.  41 


antiquity.  With  manufacturing  and  artistic  skill  they 
combined  the  spirit  of  enterprise  and  adventure  which 
leads  to  commerce.  They  were  addicted  to  maritime 
pursuits ;  the  "  cry,"  or  joy,  "  of  the  Chaldeans  is  in 
their  ships,"  says  Isaiah  (xliii.  14);  and  Ezekiel  (xvii.  4) 
calls  Babylonia  "  a  land  of  traffic,"  and  its  chief  city 
"  a  city  of  merchants." 

But  a  larger,  and  probably  the  largest,  class  of  the 
people  must  have  busied  themselves  with  the  toils  of 
agriculture ;  the  broad  Chaldean  plain  being  famous, 
from_  the  time  of  the  Patriarchs  to  the  present  day,  for 
an  amazing  and  almost  incredible  fertility.  Wheat, 
barley,  millet,  and  sesame,  all  flourished  with  astonish- 
ing luxuriance,  the  ground  commonly  yielding  a  hun- 
dredfold, two  hundredfold,  and  even  ampler  rewards 
for  the  toil  of  the  husbandman. 

With  these  abundant  sources  of  wealth  at  their 
command,  the  people  naturally  grew  luxurious  and 
dissolute.  "  The  daughter  of  the  Chaldeans,"  says 
Isaiah  (xlvii.  1-8),  "is  tender  and  delicate,"  given  to 
pleasures,  apt  to  live  carelessly ;  her  young  men,  says 
Ezekiel  (xxiii.  15), are  dandies,  "exceeding  in  dyed  attire," 
painting  their  faces,  and  wearing  earrings.  Chastity, 
in    our   modern    sense    of    the    term,    was    unknown.-^ 

'  See  Herodotus,  book  i.,  chap.  199;  Strabo,  xvi.,  p.  1058  ;  and 
the  Book  of  Barn ch,  vi.  43. 


42  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

The  pleasures  of  the  table  and  of  the  couch  were 
carried  to  excess.  Yet,  like  many  other  Eastern  races, 
the  Babylonians  hid  under  their  soft  luxurious  exterior 
a  fierceness  very  formidable  to  their  foes.  The 
Hebrew  Prophets  (Hab.  i.  6-8  ;  Isaiah  xiv.  i6)  de- 
scribe them  as  "  a  bitter  and  hasty,"  a  "  terrible  and 
dreadful  "  people,  "  fiercer  than  the  evening  wolves," 
a  people  whose  tramp  "  made  the  earth  tremble,  and 
did  shake  kingdoms ; "  and  all  the  historians  of  the 
time  charge  them  with  a  thirst  for  blood  which  often 
took  the  most  savage  and  inhuman  forms. 

Of  the  horrible  licence  and  cruelty  of  the  worship 
of  Bel,  Merodach,  and  Nebo,  which  did  much  to  foster 
the  fierce  and  cruel  temper  of  the  people,  it  is  not 
necessary,  it  is  hardly  possible,  to  speak.  Roughly 
taken,  it  was  the  service  of  the  great  forces  of  Nature 
by  a  wanton  indulgence  of  the  worst  passions  of  man. 
It  is  enough  to  know  that  in  Babylon  idolatry  took 
forms  which  made  all  forms  of  idolatry  henceforth 
intolerable  to  the  Jews ;  that  now,  once  for  all,  they 
renounced  that  worship  of  strange  gods  to  which  they 
and  their  fathers  had  always  hitherto  been  prone. 
This  of  itself  was  an  immense  advance,  a  great  gain. 
Nor  was  it  their  only  gain ;  for  if  by  contact  with  the 
idolatrous  Babylonians  the  Jews  were  driven  back  on 
their  own  Law  and  Scripture,  their  intercourse  with 
a  people  of  so  active  an  intellect  and  a  learning  so  deep 


INTRODUCTION.  43 


and  wide  led  them  to  study  the  Word  of  Jehovah  in 
a  new  and  more  intelligent  spirit. 

Nor  is  it  less  obvious  that  in  the  social  and  political 
conditions  of  the  Babylonians  we  have  a  key  to  many 
of  the  allusions  to  public  life  contained  in  Ecclesiastes. 
The  great  empire,  indeed,  presents  precisely  those 
elements  which,  in  degenerate  times  and  under  feebler 
despots,  must  inevitably  develop  into  the  disorder,  and 
misery,  and  crime  which  Coheleth  depicts. ' 

2.  The  Persian  Period. — The  conquest  of  Babylon 
by  the  Persians,  led  by  the  heroic  Cyrus,  is,  thanks  to 
Daniel,  one  of  the  most  familiar  incidents  of  ancient 
history,  so  familiar  that  I  need  not  recount  it.  By 
this  conquest  Cyrus — "  the  Shepherd,  the  Messiah,  of 
the  Lord,"  as  Isaiah  (xliv.  28;  xlv.  i)  terms  him — 
became  the  undisputed  master  of  well-nigh  the  whole 
known  world  of  the  time.  Nor  does  he  seem  to  have 
been  unworthy  of  his  extraordinary  position.  Of  all 
ancient  Oriental  monarchs,  out  of  the  Hebrew  pale,  he 
bears  the  highest  repute.  Even  the  Greek  authors, 
for  the  most  part,  represent  him  as  energetic  and 
patient,  magnanimous  and  modest,  and  of  a  religious 
mind.  iEschylus  calls  him  "  kindly  "  or  "generous." 
Xenophon  selected  him  as  a  model  prince  for  all  races. 
Plutarch  says  that  "  in  wisdom,  and  virtue,  and  great- 
ness of  soul  he  appears  to  have  been  in  advance  of  all 


44  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

kings."  Diodorus  makes  one  of  his  speakers  say  that 
Cyrus  gained  his  ascendency  by  his  self-command  and 
good-feeling  and  gentleness.  Simple  in  his  habits, 
brave,  and  of  a  most  just,  humane,  and  clement  spirit, 
he  hated  the  cruel  and  lascivious  idols  of  the  East, 
and  worshipped  one  only  God,  "  the  God  of  heaven." 
There  is  none  like  him  in  the  antique  world,  none  at 
least  among  the  kings  and  princes  of  that  world.  And 
when,  at  the  conquest  of  Babylon,  he  discovered  in  the 
captive  Jews  a  race  that  also  hated  idols,  and  served 
one  Lord,  and  knew  a  law  of  life  as  pure  as  his  own, 
or  even  purer,  we  need  feel  no  surprise  either  that  he 
broke  their  bands  in  sunder  and  set  them  free  to  return 
to  their  native  land,  or  that  they  saw  in  this  pure  and 
noble  nature,  this  virtuous  and  religious  prince,  "  a 
servant  of  Jehovah,"  and  even  a  partial  and  shadowy 
resemblance  to  that  Divine  Deliverer  and  Redeemer 
for  whose  advent  they  had  been   taught  to  look. 

Cyrus  was  sixty  years  of  age  when  he  took  Babylon 
(b.c.  539),  and  died  ten  years  after  his  conquest.  He 
was  succeeded  by  men  utterly  unhke  himself,  so  unlike 
that  the  Persian  nobles  revolted  from  them,  and  placed 
Darius  Hystaspes,  the  heir  of  an  ancient  dynasty,  on 
the  throne.  As  Cyrus  was  the  soldier  of  the  Persians, 
so  Darius  was  their  statesman.  He  it  was  who  founded 
the  "  satrapial "  form  of  administration  ;  i.e.  instead  of 
governing  the  various  provinces  of  his  empire  through 


INTRODUCTION.  45 


native    princes,  he  placed  Persian  satraps  over  them, 
these    satraps    being    charged    with    the    collection    of 
the  public  revenue,  the  maintenance  of  order,  and  the 
administration    of  justice ;    in    fact,    he    governed    the 
whole  Eastern  world  very  much  as  we  govern  India. 
The  internal  organization  of  his  vast  unwieldy  empire 
was  the  great  work  of  Darius  through  his  long  reign  of 
six-and-thirty  years  ;    but   the  event  by  which   he   is 
best  remembered,  and   which   proved   to  be  fruitful  in 
the    most    disastrous    results    to    the    State,    was    the 
opening  of  that  fatal  war  with  Greece,  which  at  last, 
and  under  his  feeble  and  degenerate  successors,  Xerxes, 
Artaxerxes,    and    the    rest,    reached    its    close    in    the 
downfall  of  the  Persian  empire.     We  need  not  linger 
over  the  details  of  the  story.      It  will  be  enough,  for 
our  purpose,  to  say  that  from  the  accession  of  Xerxes 
down  to  the  conquest  of  the  Persian  empire  by  Alex- 
ander the  Great — a  stretch  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
— that  empire  was  declining  to   its   fall.     Its    history 
towards  the  end  was  a  mere  succession  of  intrigues  and 
insurrections,  conspiracies  and  revolts.      "  Battle,  mur- 
der, and  sudden  death  "  are  its  staple.     The  restraints 
of  law  and  order  grew  ever  weaker.    The  satraps  were 
practically  supreme  in  their  several  provinces,  and  used 
their   power   to   extort   enormous   wealth    from    their 
miserable  subjects.     Eunuchs  and  concubines  ruled  in 
the  palace.     Manliness  died  out ;  the  Persians  were  no 


46  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

longer  taught  "  to  ride,  to  draw  the  bow,  and  to  speak 
the  truth ; "  cunning  and  treachery  took  its  place. 
The  scene  grows  more  and  more  pitiful,  till  at  last  the 
welcome  darkness  rushes  down,  and  hides  the  ignoble 
agony  of  perhaps  the  vastest  and  wealthiest  empire  the 
world  has  seen. 

But  w^e  must  turn  from  the  despots  and  their  adven- 
tures to  form  some  slight  acquaintance  with  the  people, 
the  Persian  people  who,  by  the  conquest  of  Cyrus,  be- 
came the  ruling  class  in  the  empire,  always  remember- 
ing, however,  that  the  Babylonians  must  have  remained 
by  myriads  both  in  the  capital  and  in  the  provinces, 
and  would  continue  to  exert  their  influence  on  Hebrew 
thought  and  activity. 

In  all  moral  and  religious  qualities  the  Persians  were 
far  in  advance  of  the  Chaldeans,  though  they  were 
probably  behind  them  in  many  civilized  arts  and  crafts. 
They  were  famous  for  their  truthfulness  and  valour. 
The  Greeks  ^  confessed  the  Persians  to  be  their  equals 
in  "  boldness  and  warlike  spirit  " — ^schylus  ^  calls 
them  "  a  valiant-minded  people " — while  they  are 
lavish  in  praise  of  the  Persian  veracity,  a  virtue  in 
which  they  themselves  were  notably  deficient.  To  the 
Persians  God  was   "the   Father  of  all  truth;"  to  lie 

'  Herodotus,  ix.  62.  -  yEschyl.,  Pers.,  94. 


INTRODUCTION.  47 


was  shameful  and  irreligious.  They  disliked  traffic 
because  of  its  haggling,  equivocation,  and  dishonest 
shifts.  ''  Their  chief  faults,"  and  even  these  were  not 
developed  till  they  became  masters  of  the  world,  "  were 
an  addiction  to  self-indulgence  and  luxury,  a  passionate 
abandon  to  the  feeling  of  the  hour  whatever  it  might 
be,  and  a  tameness  and  subservience  in  all  their  rela- 
tions toward  their  princes  which  seem  to  moderns  in- 
compatible with  self-respect  and  manliness."  Patriotism 
came  to  mean  mere  loyalty  to  the  monarch  ;  the  habit 
of  unquestioning  submission  to  his  will,  and  even  to 
his  caprice,  became  a  second  nature  to  them.  The 
despotic  humour  natural  in  "  a  ruling  person "  was 
thus  nourished  till  it  ran  to  the  wildest  excess.  "  He 
was  their  lord  and  master,  absolute  disposer  of  their 
lives,  liberties,  and  property,  the  sole  fountain  of  law 
and  right,  incapable  himself  of  doing  wrong,  irrespon- 
sible, irresistible — a  sort  of  God  upon  earth ;  one 
whose  favour  was  happiness,  at  whose  frown  men 
trembled,  before  whom  all  bowed  themselves  down 
with  the  lowest  and  humblest  obeisance."  No  subject 
could  enter  his  presence  save  by  special  permission,  or 
without  a  prostration  like  that  of  worship.  To  come 
unbidden  was  to  be  cut  down  by  the  royal  guards, 
unless,  as  a  sign  of  grace,  he  extended  his  golden 
sceptre  to  the  culprit.  To  tread  on  the  king's  carpet 
was  a  grave  offence ;  to  sit,  even  unwittingly,  on  his 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


seat  a  capital  crime.  So  slavish  was  the  submission 
both  of  nobles  and  of  people  that  we  are  required  on 
good  authority  to  accredit  such  stories  as  these  : 
wretches  bastinadoed  by  the  king's  order  declared  them- 
selves delighted  that  his  majesty  had  condescended  to 
remember  them  ;  a  father,  whose  innocent  son  was 
shot  by  the  despot  in  pure  wantonness,  had  to  crush 
down  his  natural  indignation  and  grief,  and  to  compli- 
ment the  royal  archer  on  the  accuracy  of  his  aim. 

Despising  trade  and  commerce  as  menial  and  degrad- 
ing, the  ruling  caste  of  a  vast  empire,  with  a  monopoly 
of  office  and  boundless  means  of  wealth  at  their  com- 
mand, accustomed  to  lord  it  over  subject  races,  of  a 
high  spirit  and  a  faith  comparatively  pure,  their  very 
prosperity  was  their  ruin,  as  it  has  been  that  of  many 
a  great  nation.  In  their  earlier  times,  they  were  noted 
for  their  sobriety  and  temperance.  Cdntent  with  simple 
diet,  their  only  drink  was  water  from  the  pure  mountain 
streams ;  their  garb  was  plain,  their  habits  homely  and 
hardy.  But  their  temperance  soon  gave  place  to  an 
immoderate  luxury.^  They  acquired  the  Babylonian 
vices,  and  adopted  at  least  the  licence  of  the  Babylonian 

'  "There  is  no  nation  which  so  readily  adopts  foreign  customs 
as  the  Persians.  ...  As  soon  as  they  hear  of  any  luxury  they 
instantly  make  it  their  own.  .  .  .  Each  of  them  has  several 
wives,  and  a  still  larger  number  of  concubines." — {^Havdotus 
book  i.,  chap.  135). 


INTRODUCTION.  49 


rites.  They  filled  their  harems  with  wives  and  con- 
cubines. From  the  time  of  Xerxes  onwards  they  grew 
nice  and  curious  of  appetite,  eager  for  pleasure,  effemi- 
nate, dissolute. 

With  the  growth  of  luxury  on  the  part  of  the  nobles 
and  the  people,  the  fear  of  the  despot,  at  whose  mercy 
all  their  acquisitions  stood,  grew  more  intense,  more 
harassing,  more  degrading.  Xerxes  and  his  successors 
were  utterly  reckless  in  their  exercise  of  the  absolute 
power  conceded  to  them,  and  delegated  it  to  favourites 
as  reckless  as  themselves.  No  noble  however  eminent, 
no  servant  of  the  State  however  faithful  or  distinguished, 
could  be  sure  that  he  might  not  at  any  moment  incur  a 
displeasure  which  would  strip  him  of  all  he  possessed, 
even  if  it  did  not  also  condemn  him  to  a  cruel  and 
lingering  death.  Out  of  mere  sport  and  wantonness,  to 
relieve  the  tedium  of  a  weary  hour,  the  despot  might 
slay  him  with  his  own  hand.  For  the  crime,  or  assumed 
crime,  of  one  person  a  whole  family,  or  class,  or  race 
might  be  cut  off  unheard.  Of  the  lengths  to  which  this 
cruelty  and  caprice  might  go  we  have  a  sufficient 
example  in  the  Book  of  Esther.  The  Ahasuerus  of 
that  singular  narrative  was,  there  can  hardly  be  any 
doubt,  the  Xerxes  of  secular  history — the  very  names, 
unlike  as  they  sound,  are  the  same  name  differently 
pronounced  by  two  different  races.^     And  all  that  the 

'  Their  common  root  is  the  Sanscrit  Kshafra,  a  king ;  in  the 

4 


5p  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

Book  of  Esther  relates  of  the  despot  who  repudiates 
a  wife  because  she  will  not  expose  herself  to  the 
drunken  admiration  of  a  crowd  of  revellers,  who  raises 
a  servant  to  the  highest  honours  one  day  and  hangs  him 
the  next,  who  commands  the  massacre  of  an  entire  race 
and  then  bids  them  inflict  a  horrible  carnage  on  those 
who  execute  his  decree,  exactly  accords  with  the  Greek 
narratives  which  depict  him  as  scourging  the  sea  for 
having  broken  down  his  bridge  over  the  Hellespont, 
beheading  the  engineers  whose  work  was  swept  away 
by  a  storm,  wantonly  putting  to  death  the  sons  of 
Pythias,  his  oldest  friend,  before  their  father's  eyes ; 
as  first  giving  to  his  mistress  the  splendid  robe  pre- 
sented to  him  by  his  queen,  and  then  giving  up  to  the 
queen's  barbarous  vengeance  the  mother  of  his  mistress  ; 
as  shamefully  misusing  the  body  of  the  heroic  Leonidas, 
and,  after  his  defeat  by  the  Greeks,  giving  himself  up 
to  a  criminal  voluptuousness  and  offering  a  reward  to 
the  inventor  of  any  new  pleasure. 

The  Book  Ecclesiastes  was  written  certainly  not 
before  the  reign  of  Xerxes  (b.c.  486-465),  and  pro- 
bably many  years  after  it,  a  period  in  which,  bad  as 
were  the  conditions  of  his  time,  the  times  grew  ever 

Persepolitan  inscriptions  this  word  appears  as  Ksershe,  and 
from  this  both  the  Hebrew  Achashuerash  (Ahasuerus)  and  the 
Greek  Xerxes  would  easily  be  formed. 


INTRODUCTION.  51 


more  lawless,  the  despotism  more  intolerable,  the 
violence  and  licentiousness  of  the  subordinate  officials 
more  unblushing.  But  at  whatever  period  within  these 
limits  we  may  place  it,  all  we  have  learned  of  the 
Babylonians  and  the  Persians  during  the  later  years  of 
the  Captivity  and  the  earlier  years  of  the  Exile  (during 
which  the  Jews  were  still  under  the  Persian  rule)  is  in 
entire  correspondence  with  the  social  and  political  state 
depicted  by  the  Preacher.  The  abler  and  more  kindly 
despots — as  Cyrus,  Darius,  Artaxerxes — showed  a  sin- 
gular favour  to  the  Jews.  Cyrus  pubHshed  a  decree 
authorizing  them  to  return  to  Jerusalem  and  rebuild 
their  temple,  and  enjoining  the  officials  of  the  empire 
to  further  them  in  their  enterprise ;  Darius  confirmed 
that  decree,  despite  the  mahgnant  misrepresentations 
of  the  Samaritan  colonists ;  Artaxerxes  held  Ezra  and 
Nehemiah  in  high  esteem,  and  sent  them  to  restore 
order  and  prosperity  to  the  city  of  their  fathers  and  its 
inhabitants.  But  a  large  number,  apparently  even  a  large 
majority,  of  the  Jews,  unable  or  disinclined  to  return, 
remained  in  the  various  provinces  of  the  great  empire, 
and  were  of  course  subject  to  the  violence  and  injustice 
from  which  the  Persians  themselves  were  not  exempt. 
"Vanity  of  vanities,  vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity  !" 
cries  the  Preacher  till  we  grow  weary  of  the  mournful 
refrain.  Might  he  not  well  take  that  tone  in  a  time  so 
out  of  joint,  so  lowering,  so  dark? 


52  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

The  Book  is  full  of  allusions  to  the  Persian  luxury, 
to  the  Persian  forms  of  administration,  above  all, 
to  the  corruptions  of  the  later  years  of  the  Persian 
empire,  and  the  miseries  they  bred.  Coheleth's 
elaborate  description  (ii.  4-8)  of  the  infinite  variety 
of  means  by  which  he  sought  to  allure  his  heart 
unto  mirth — his  palaces,  vineyards,  paradises,  with 
their  reservoirs  and  fountains,  crowds  of  attendants, 
treasures  of  gold  and  silver,  the  harem  full  of  beauties 
of  all  races — seems  taken  direct  from  the  ample  state 
of  some  luxurious  Persian  grandee.  His  picture  of 
the  public  administration  (v.  8,  9),  in  which  "  superior 
watcheth  over  superior,  and  superiors  again  watch 
over  them,"  is  a  graphic  sketch  of  the  satrapial  system, 
with  its  official  hierarchy  rising  grade  above  grade, 
which  was  the  work  of  Darius.^  When  the  animating 
and  controlling  spirit  of  that  system  was  taken  away, 
when  weak  foolish  despots  sat  on  the  throne,  and 
despots  just  as  foolish  and  weak  ruled  in  every 
provincial  divan,  there  ensued  precisely  that  political 
state  to  which    Coheleth  perpetually  refers.^     Iniquity 

'  "  The  political  condition  of  the  people  which  this  Book 
presupposes  is  that  in  which  they  are  placed  under  satraps  " 
(Delitzsch). 

'  It  would  be  possible  to  collect  from  the  Psalms  of  this  date 
materials  for  a  description  of  the  wrongs  and  miseries  inflicted 
on  the  Jews,  and  of  their  keen  sense  of  them,  quite  as  graphic 
and  intense  as  that  of  the  Preacher.     Here  are  a  few  phrases 


INTRODUCTION.  53 


sat  in  the  place  of  judgment,  and  in  the  place  of  equity 
there  was  iniquity  (iii.  16);  kings  grew  childish,  and 
princes  spent  their  daj^s  in  revelry  (x.  16) ;  fools 
were  lifted  to  high  place,  while  nobles  were  degraded  ; 
and    slaves    rode     on     horses,    while    their    quondam 

hastily  culled  from  them.  The  oppressors  of  Israel  are  de- 
scribed as  being  "  clothed  with  cruelty  as  with  a  garment,"  as 
"returning  evil  for  good,  and  hatred  for  good-will." 

"  Lift  up  thyself,  thou  Judge  of  the  earth  ; 
Render  to  the  proud  their  desert. 
They  prate,  they  speak  arrogantly  ; 
All  the  workers  of  iniquity  boast  themselves. 
They  break  in  pieces  Thy  people,  O  Lord, 
And  afflict  Thine  heritage. 
They  slay  the  widow  and  the  stranger. 
And  murder  the  fatherless. 
And  they  say.  The  Lord  shall  not  see, 
Neither  shall  the  God  of  Jacob  consider"  (xciv.). 

"  I  am  bowed  down  and  brought  very  low ; 
I  go  mourning  all  the  day  long  : 
Truly  I  am  nigh  unto  falling. 
And  my  heaviness  is  ever  before  me  "  (xxxviii.). 

"My  daj's  consume  away  like  smoke, 
And  my  bones  are  burned  up  like  as  a  firebrand  ; 
My  heart  is  smitten  down  and  withered  like  grass, 
So  that  I  forget  to  eat  my  bread"  (cii.). 

"  I  am  helpless  and  poor. 
And  my  heart  is  wounded  within  me  "  (cix.). 

Most  of  the  "  imprecatory "  Psalms  belong  to  this  period ;  and 
the  terrible  wrongs  of  the  Captivity,  though  they  may  not  justify, 
in  large  measure  explain  and  excuse,  that  desire  for  vengeance 
which  has  given  so  much  offence  to  some  q^-cnli'medferii  critics/.. 


/ 


54  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

masters  tramped  through  the  mire  (x.  6,  7).  There 
was  no  fair  reward  for  faithful  service  (ix.  1 1).  Death 
brooded  in  the  air,  and  might  fall  suddenly  and  un- 
foreseen on  any  head,  however  high  (ix.  12).  To 
correct  a  public  abuse  was  like  pulling  down  a  wall : 
some  of  the  stones  were  sure  to  fall  on  the  reformer's 
feet,  from  some  cranny  a  serpent  was  sure  to  start 
out  and  bite  him  (x.  8,  9).  To  breathe  a  word  against 
a  ruler,  even  in  the  strictest  privacy,  was  to  run  the 
hazard  of  destruction  (x.  20).  A  resentful  gesture, 
much  more  a  rebellious  word,  in  the  divan  was  enough 
to  ensure  outrage.  In  short,  the  whole  poHtical  fabric 
was  fast  falling  into  disrepair  and  decay,  the  rain 
leaking  through  the  rotting  roof,  while  the  miserable 
people  were  ground  down  with  ruinous  exactions,  in 
order  that  their  rulers  might  revel  on  undisturbed 
(x.  18,  19).  It  is  under  such  a  pernicious  and 
ominous  maladministration  of  public  affairs,  and  the 
appalling  miseries  it  breeds,  that  there  springs  up  in 
the  hearts  of  men  that  fatalistic  and  hopeless  temper 
to  which  Coheleth  gives  frequent  expression.  Better 
never  to  have  been  born  than  to  live  a  life  so  cramped 
and  thwarted,  so  full  of  perils  and  fears !  Better 
to  snatch  at  every  pleasure,  however  poor  and  brief, 
than  seek,  by  self-denial,  by  virtue,  by  integrity,  to 
accumulate  a  store  which  the  first  petty  tyrant  who 
gets    wind    of  it    will  sweep  off,    or  a  reputation  for 


INTRODUCTION.  55 


wisdom  and  goodness  which  will  be  no  protection 
from,  which  will  be  only  too  likely  to  provoke,  the 
despotic  humours  of  men  "dressed  in  a  little  brief 
authority." 

If  even  Shakespeare,^  in  an  unrestful  and  despairing 
mood   strangely   foreign    to   his    serene    temperament, 

beheld 

"  desert  a  beggar  born, 
And  needy  nothing  trimmed  in  jollity, 
And  purest  faith  unhappily  forsworn, 
And  gilded  honour  shamefully  misplaced, 
And  maiden  virtue  rudely  strumpeted, 
And  right  perfection  wrongfully  disgraced, 
And  strength  by  limping  sway  disabled, 
And  art  made  tongue-tied  by  authority, 
And  folly,  doctor-like,  controlling  skill. 
And  simple  truth  raiscall'd  simplicity, 
And  captive  good  attending  captain  ill ;  " 

if,  "  tired  with  all  these,"  he  cried  for  "  restful  death," 
we  can  hardly  wonder  that  the  Preacher,  who  had 
fallen  on  times  so  evil  that,  compared  with  his,  Shake- 
speare's were  good,  should  prefer  death  to  life. 

But  there  is  another  side  to  this  sad  story  of  the 
Captivity,  another  and  a  nobler  side.  If  the  Jews 
suffered  much  from  Persian  misrule,  they  learned  much 
and  gained  much  from  the  Persian  faith.  In  its  earlier 
form  the   religious   creed  whose  documents  Zoroaster 

^  Sonnets,  LXVI. 


56  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

afterwards  collected  and  enlarged  in  the  Zendavesta 
was  probably  the  purest  of  the  ancient  heathen  world ; 
and  even  when  it  was  corrupted  by  the  baser  additions 
of  later  times,  its  purer  form  was  still  preserved  in 
songs  (Gathas)  and  traditions.  There  can  be  no 
reasonable  doubt  that  it  largely  affected  the  subsequent 
faith  of  the  Hebrews,  not  indeed  teaching  them  any 
truth  they  had  not  been  taught  before,  but  constraining 
them  to  recognize  truths  in  their  Scriptures  which 
hitherto  they  had  passed  over  or  neglected. 

In  its  inception  the  Persian  creed  and  practice  were 
a  revolt  against  the  sensuous  and  sensual  worship  of 
the  great  forces  of  Nature  into  which  most  Eastern 
religions,  often  pure  enough  in  their  primitive  forms, 
had  degenerated,  and,  in  especial,  from  the  base  forms 
into  which  the  Hindus  had  degraded  that  primitive  faith 
which  is  still  to  be  recovered  from  the  Rig- Veda.  It 
acknowledged  persons,  real  spiritual  intelligences,  in 
place  of  mere  natural  powers;  and  it  drew  moral  distinc- 
tions between  them,  dividing  these  ruling  intelligences 
into  good  and  bad,  pure  and  impure,  benignant  and 
malevolent, — an  immense  advance  on  the  mere  admira- 
tion of  whatever  was  strong.  Nay,  in  some  sense,  the 
Persian  faith  affirmed  monotheism  against  polytheism ; 
for  it  asserted  that  one  Great  Intelligence  ruled  over 
all  other  intelligences,  and  through  them  over  the 
universe.    This  Supreme  Intelligence,  which  the  Persians 


INTRODUCTION.  57 


called  Ahura-mazda  (Ormazd),  is  the  true  Creator, 
Preserver,  Governor,  of  all  spirits,  all  men,  all  worlds. 
He  is  "good,"  "holy,"  "pure,"  "true,"  "the  Father 
of  all  truth,"  "  the  best  Being  of  all,"  "  the  Master  of 
Purity,"  "  the  Source  and  Fountain  of  all  good."  On 
the  righteous  He  bestows  "  the  good  mind "  and 
everlasting  happiness ;  while  He  punishes  and  afflicts 
the  evil.  His  worshippers  were  to  the  last  degree 
intolerant  of  idolatry.  They  suffered  no  image  to 
profane  their  temples ;  their  earliest  symbol  of  Deity 
is  almost  as  pure  and  abstract  as  a  mathematical  sign, 
a  circle  with  wings ;  the  circle  to  denote  the  eternity 
of  God,  and  the  wings  his  omnipresence.  Under  this 
Supreme  Lord,  "  the  God  of  heaven,"  they  admitted 
inferior  beings,  angels  and  archangels,  whose  names 
mark  them  out  as  personified  Divine  attributes,  or  as 
faithful  servants  who  administer  some  province  of  the 
Divine  empire. 

To  win  the  favour  of  the  God  of  heaven  it  was 
requisite  to  cultivate  the  virtues  of  purity,  truthfulness, 
industry,  and  a  pious  sense  of  the  Divine  presence  ; 
and  these  virtues  must  spring  from  the  heart,  and 
cover  thought  as  well  as  word  and  deed.  His  worship 
consisted  in  the  frequent  offering  of  prayer,  praise, 
and  thanksgiving ;  in  the  reiteration  of  certain  sacred 
hymns ;  in  the  occasional  sacrifice  of  animals  which, 
after  being  presented  before   Ormazd,  furnished   forth 


58  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

a  feast  for  priest  and  worshipper ;  and  in  the  perform- 
ance of  a  mystic  ceremony  (the  Soma),  the  gist  of 
which  seems  to  have  lain  in  a  grateful  acknowledgment 
that  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  typified  by  the  intoxicating 
juice  of  the  Homa  plant,  were  to  be  received  as  the 
gift  of  Heaven.  A  sentence  or  two  from  one  of  the 
hymns  ^  of  which  there  are  many  in  the  Zendavesta, 
will  show  better  than  many  words  to  how  high  a  pitch 
Divine  worship  was  carried  by  the  Persians:  "We 
worship  Thee,  Ahura-mazda,  the  pure,  the  master  of 
purity.  We  praise  all  good  thoughts,  all  good  words, 
all  good  deeds  which  are  or  shall  be ;  and  we  likewise 
keep  clean  and  pure  all  that  is  good.  O  Ahura-mazda, 
thou  true  happy  Being !  We  strive  to  think,  to  speak, 
and  to  do  only  such  things  as  may  be  best  fitted  to 
promote  the  two  lives  "  {i.e.  the  life  of  the  body  and  the 
life  of  the  soul). 

In  this  course  of  well-doing  the  faithful  were  animated 
and  confirmed  by  a  devout  belief  in  the  immortality 
of  the  soul  and  a  conscious  future  existence.  They 
were  taught  that  at  death  the  souls  of  men,  both  good 
and  bad,  travelled  along  an  appointed  path  to  a  narrow 
bridge  which  led  to  Paradise ;  over  this  bridge  only 
pious  souls  could  pass,  the  wicked  falling  from  it  into 
an  awful  gulf  in  which  they  received  the  due  reward  of 

'  Hang's  Essays,  pp.  162-3,  quoted  by  Ravvlinson. 


INTRODUCTION.  59 


their  deeds.  The  happy  souls  of  the  good  were  helped 
across  the  long  narrow  arch  by  an  angel/  and  as  they 
entered  Paradise  a  great  archangel  rose  from  his  throne 
to  greet  each  of  them  with  the  words,  "  How  happy 

^  This  helpful  angel  is  by  no  means  peculiar  to  the  Persian 
faith.  All  the  imaginative  races  of  antiquity  conceived  of  a 
being  more  divine  than  man,  though  originally  not  equal  to  the 
gods,  who  guided  the  departed  soul  on  its  lonely  journey  through 
the  dark  interspaces  of  death.  Theut  conducted  the  released 
spirit  of  the  Egyptian  to  the  judgment-seat.  Hermes  performed 
the  same  kind  office  for  the  Greeks,  Mercury  for  the  Romans. 
Yama  was  the  nekropompos  ot  the  Hindus,  and  the  Persians 
retained  the  legend.  The  Rig-Veda  represents  him  as  the  first 
man  who  passed  through  death  to  immortality,  and  as  therefore 
the  best  guide  of  other  men.  Nor  is  it  doubted  that  the  Persians 
derived  their  belief  in  a  future  life  from  the  primitive  Hindu 
creed.  If  their  faith  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  revolt  from  the  degene- 
rate forms  of  Hindu  worship,  it  was  also  a  return  to  its  more 
ancient  forms,  as  religious  reformations  are  apt  to  be.  The  fathers 
of  the  Aryan  stock  had  an  unwavering  assurance  of  a  future  life. 
In  his  Essay  on  the  Funeral  Rites  of  the  Brahnians,  Max  Miiller 
cites  a  sort  of  liturgy  with  which  the  ancient  Hindu  used  to  bid  fare- 
well to  his  deceased  friend  while  the  body  lay  on  the  funeral  pyre, 
which  is,  surely,  very  noble  and  pathetic :  "  Depart  thou,  depart 
thou  by  the  ancient  paths,  to  the  place  whither  our  fathers  have 
departed.  Meet  with  the  ancient  ones  (the  Pitrs) ;  meet  with 
the  Lord  of  Death;  obtain  thy  desires  in  heaven.  Throw  off 
thine  imperfections  ;  go  to  thy  home.  Become  united  with  a 
body  ;  clothe  thyself  in  a  shining  form.  Go  ye  ;  depart  ye  ; 
hasten  ye  from  hence"  (Rig-Veda  x.  14). 

To  which,  as  choral  responses,  might  be  added,  "Let  him 
depart  to  those  for  whom  flow  the  rivers  of  nectar.  Let  him 
depart   to   those   who   through    meditation    have   obtained    the 


6o  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

art  thou,  who  hast  come  to  us  from  mortaHty  to 
immortahty  ! " 

This  wonderfully  pure  creed  was,  however,  in  process 
of  time,  corrupted  in  many  ways.  First  of  all,  "  the  sad 
antithesis  of  human  life,"  the  conflict  between  light  and 
darkness,  good  and  evil — the  standing  puzzle  of  the 
world — led  the  votaries  of  Ormazd  to  dualism.  Ormazd 
loved  and  created  only  the  good.  The  evil  in  man,  and 
in   the  world,  must  be  the  work  of  an  enem3^     This 

victory,  who  by  fixing  their  thoughts  on  the  unseen  have  gone 
to  heaven.  .  .  .  Let  him  depart  to  the  mighty  in  battle,  to  the 
heroes  who  have  laid  down  their  lives  for  others,  to  those  who 
have  bestowed  their  goods  on  the  poor  "  (Rig- Veda  x.  1 54). 

As  the  body  was  consumed  on  the  pyre  the  friends  of  the 
dead  chanted  a  hymn  in  which,  after  having  bidden  his  body 
return  to  the  various  elements  from  which  it  sprang,  they  prayed, 
"  As  for  his  unborn  part,  do  Thou,  Lord  (Agni),  quicken  it  with 
Thy  heat ;  let  Thy  flame  and  Thy  brightness  kindle  it :  convey  it 
to  the  world  of  the  righteous." 

It  was  from  this  pure  and  lofty  source  that  the  Persians  drew 
their  faith  in  the  better  life  to  be. 

Max  Miiller  also  quotes  as  the  prayer  of  a  dying  Hindu  woman, 
"  Place  me,  O  Pure  One,  in  that  everlasting  and  unchanging 
world  where  light  and  glory  are  found.  Make  me  immortal  in 
the  world  in  which  joys,  delights,  and  happiness  abide,  where 
the  desires  are  obtained  "  (Atharda  Veda  xii.  3,  17). 

Cremation  itself  bore  witness  to  the  Hindu  faith  in  immortality, 
since  they  held  that  "  the  fire  which  set  free  the  spiritual  element 
from  the  superincumbent  clay,  completed  the  third  or  heavenly 
birth,"  the  second  birth  having  been  achieved  when  men  set 
themselves  to  a  faithful  discharge  of  their  religious  duties. 


INTRODUCTION.  6i 


enemy,  Ahriman  (Augro-maniyus),  has  been  seeking 
from  eternity  to  undo,  to  mar  and  blast,  the  fair  work 
of  the  God  of  heaven.  He  is  the  baleful  author  of  all 
evil,  and  under  him  are  spirits  as  malignant  as  himself. 
Between  these  good  and  evil  powers  there  is  incessant 
conflict,  which  extends  to  every  soul  and  every  world. 
It  will  never  cease  until  the  great  Deliverer  arise — ^for 
even  of  Him  the  Persians  had  some  dim  prevision — 
who  shall  conquer  and  destroy  evil  at  its  source,  all 
things  then  rounding  to  their  final  goal  of  good. 

Another  corrupting  influence  had  its  origin  in  a  too 
literal  interpretation  of  the  names  given  to  the  Divine 
Being,  or  the  qualities  ascribed  to  Him,  by  the  founders 
of  the  faith.  Ormazd,  for  example,  had  been  described 
as  "true,  lucid,  shining,  the  originator  of  all  the  best 
things,  of  the  spirit  in  nature  and  of  the  growth  in 
nature,  of  the  luminaries  and  of  the  self-shining  brightness 
ivhich  is  in  the  luminaries."  From  these  epithets  and 
ascriptions  there  sprang  in  later  days  the  worship  of 
the  sun,  then  of  fire,  as  a  type  of  God — a  worship  still 
maintained  by  the  disciples  of  Zoroaster,  the  Ghebers 
and  the  Parsees.  And  from  this  point  onward  the  old 
sad  story  repeats  itself;  once  more  we  have  to  trace 
a  pure  and  lofty  primitive  faith  along  the  grades  through 
which  it  declines  to  the  low,  base  level  of  a  sensuous 
idolatry.  The  Magians,  always  the  bitter  enemies  of 
Zoroastrianism,  held  that  the  four  elements — fire,  air, 


62  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

earth,  and  water — were  the  only  proper  objects  of 
human  reverence.  It  was  not  difficult  for  them  to  per- 
suade those  who  already  worshipped  fire,  and  were 
beginning  to  forget  of  Whom  fire  was  the  symbol,  to 
include  in  their  homage  air,  water,  and  earth.  Divina- 
tion, incantations,  the  interpretation  of  dreams  and 
omens  soon  followed,  with  all  the  dark  shadows  which 
science  and  religion  cast  behind  them.  And  then  came 
the  lowest  deep  of  all,  that  worship  of  the  gods  by 
sensual  indulgence  to  which  idolatry  gravitates,  as  by 
a  law. 

Nevertheless,  we  must  remember  that,  even  at  their 
worst,  the  Persians  preserved  the  sacred  records  of 
their  earlier  faith,  and  that  their  best  men  steadily 
refused  to  accept  the  base  additions  to  it  which  the 
Magians  proposed.  Corrupt  as  in  many  respects  many 
of  them  became,  the  conquest  of  Babylon  was  the 
death-blow  to  the  sensual  idol-worship  which  had 
reigned  for  twenty  centuries  on  the  Chaldean  plain  ;  it 
never  wholly  recovered  from  it,  though  it  survived 
it  for  a  time.  From  that  date  it  declined  to  its 
fall :  "  Bel  bowed  down ;  Nebo  stooped ;  Merodach 
was  broken  in  pieces "  (Isa.  xlvi.  i  ;  Jer.  1.  2).  The 
nobler  monarchs  of  Persia  were  true  disciples  of  the 
primitive  creed  of  their  race.  It  was  similarity  of  creed 
which  won  their  favour  for  the  Hebrew  captives.  In 
the    decree  which    enfranchised    them   (Ezra  i.    2,    3) 


INTRODUCTION. 


Cyrus  expressly  identifies  Ormazd,  "  the  God  of 
heaven,"  with  Jehovah,  the  God  of  Israel ;  he  says, 
"  The  Lord  God  of  heaven  hath  given  me  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  earth,  and  He  hath  charged  me  to 
build  Him  a  house  at  Jerusalem."  Nor  was  this  belief 
in  one  God,  whose  temple  was  to  be  defiled  by  no  image 
even  of  Himself,  the  only  point  in  common  between  the 
better  Persians,  such  as  Cyrus  and  Darius,  and  the 
better  Jews.  There  were  many  such  points.  Both 
believed  in  an  evil  spirit  tempting  and  accusing  men  ; 
in  myriads  of  angels,  all  the  host  of  heaven,  who  formed 
the  armies  of  God  and  did  his  pleasure  ;  in  a  tree  of 
life  and  a  tree  of  knowledge,  and  a  serpent  the  enemy 
of  man  ;  both  shared  the  hope  of  a  coming  Deliverer 
from  evil,  the  belief  in  an  immortal  and  retributive  life 
beyond  the  grave,  and  a  happy  Paradise  in  which  all 
righteous  souls  would  find  a  home  and  see  their  Father's 
face.  These  common  faiths  and  hopes  would  all  be 
points  of  sympathy  and  attachment  between  the  two 
races  ;  and  it  is  to  this  agreement  in  religious  doctrine 
and  practice  that  we  must  ascribe  the  striking  facts 
that  the  Persians,  ordinarily  the  most  intolerant  of  men, 
never  persecuted  the  Jews ;  and  that  the  Jews,  ordinarily 
so  impatient  of  foreign  domination,  never  made  a  single 
attempt  to  cast  off  the  Persian  yoke,  but  stood  by  the 
declining  empire  even  when  the  Greeks  were  thundering 
at  its  gates. 


64  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

On  one  question  all  competent  historians  and  com- 
mentators are  agreed ;  viz,  that  the  Jews  gained 
immensely  in  the  clearness  and  compass  of  their 
religious  faith  during  the  Captivity.  That,  which  was 
the  punishment,  was  also  the  term,  of  their  idolatry ; 
into  that  sin  they  never  afterwards  fell.  Now  first, 
too,  they  began  to  understand  that  the  bond  of  their 
unity  was  not  local,  not  national  even,  but  spiritual  and 
religious  ;  they  were  spread  over  every  province  of  a 
foreign  empire,  yet  they  were  one  people,  and  a  sacred 
people,  in  virtue  of  their  common  service  of  Jehovah 
and  their  common  hope  of  Messiah's  advent.  This 
hope  had  been  vaguely  felt  before,  and  just  previous  to 
the  Captivity  Isaiah  had  arrayed  it  in  an  unrivalled 
splendour  of  imagery  ;  now  it  sank  into  the  popular 
mind,  which  needed  it  so  sorely,  and  became  a  deep 
and  ardent  longing  of  the  national  heart.  From  this 
period,  moreover,  the  immortality  of  the  soul  and 
the  life  beyond  death  entered  distinctly  and  pro- 
minently into  the  Hebrew  creed.  Alwa3's  latent  in 
their  Scriptures,  these  truths  disclosed  themselves  to 
the  Jews  as  they  came  into  contact  with  the  Persian 
doctrines  of  judgment  and  future  rewards.  Hitherto 
they  had  thought  mainly,  if  not  exclusively,  of  the 
temporal  rewards  and  punishments  by  which  the  Mosaic 
law  enforced  its  precepts.  Henceforth  they  saw  that, 
in  time  and  on  earth,  human  actions  are  not  carried  to 


INTRODUCTION.  65 


their  final  and  due  results ;  they  looked  forward  to  a 
judgment  in  which  all  wrongs  should  be  righted,  all 
unpunished  sins  receive  their  recompense,  and  all  the 
sufferings  of  the  good  be  transmuted  into  joy  and 
peace. 

Now  this,  as  we  shall  see,  is  the  very  moral  of  the 
Book  Ecclesiastes,  the   triumphant  climax   to  which  it 
mounts.     The  endeavour  of  Coheleth  is  to  show  how 
evil  and  good  were  blended  in  the  human  lot,  evil  so 
largely  preponderating  in  the  lot  of  many  of  the  good 
as  to  make  life  a  curse  unless  it  were  sustained  by  hope  ; 
to   give  hope   by  assuring  the    Hebrew  captives    that 
*'  God  takes  cognizance  of  all  things,"  and  "  will  bring 
every  work  to  judgment,"  good  or  bad ;    and  to  urge 
on  them,  as  the  conclusion  of  his  Quest,  and  as  the 
whole  duty  of  man,  to  prepare  for  that  supreme  audit 
by  fearing  God  and  keeping  his  commandments.     This 
was  the  light  he  was  commissioned  to  carry  into  their 
great  darkness  ;  and  if  the  lamp  and  the  oil  were  of  God, 
it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  the  spark  which  kindled 
the  lamp  was  taken  from  the  Persian  fire,  since  that  too 
was  of  God.     Or,  to  vary  the  figure,  and  make  it  more 
accurate,  we  may  say  that  the  truths  of  the  future  life 
lay  hidden  in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  and  that  it  was 
by  the  light  of  the  Persian  doctrine  of  the  future  that 
the  Jews,  stimulated  by  the  mental  culture  and  activity 
acquired  in  Babylon,  discovered  them  in  the  Word. 

5 


66  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

It  is  thus,  indeed,  that  God  has  taught  men  in  all 
ages.  The  Word  remains  ever  the  same,  but  our 
conditions  change,  our  mental  posture  varies,  and  with 
our  posture  the  angle  at  which  the  light  of  Heaven  falls 
on  the  sacred  page.  We  are  brought  into  contact  with 
new  races,  new  ideas,  new  forms  of  culture,  new  dis- 
coveries of  science,  and  the  familiar  Word  forthwith 
teems  with  new  meanings,  with  new  adaptations  to  our 
needs ;  truths  unseen  before,  though  they  were  always 
there,  come  to  view,  deep  truths  rise  to  the  surface, 
mysterious  truths  grow  simple  and  plain,  truths  that 
jangled  on  the  ear  melt  into  harmony  ;  our  new  needs 
stretch  out  lame  hands  of  faith,  and  find  an  unexpected 
but  ample  supply ;  and  we  are  rapt  in  wonder  and 
admiration  as  we  afresh  discover  the  Bible  to  be  the 
Book  for  all  races  and  for  all  ages,  an  inexhaustible 
fountain  of  truth  and  comfort  and  grace. 


TRANSLATION. 


THE   PROLOGUE. 

IN  WHICH  THE  PROBLEM  OF  THE  BOOK  IS 
INDIRECTLY  STATED. 

Chap.  I.,  vv.  i-ii. 

1  The  words  of  the  Preacher,  son  of  David,  king  in 

Jerusalem. 

2  Vanity  of  vanities,  saith  the  Preacher  ; 
Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity, 

3  Since  man  hath  no  profit  from  all  his  labour 
Which  he  laboureth  under  the  sun  !  ^ 

4  One   generation    passeth,    and    another   generation 

cometh  ; 
While  the  earth  abideth  for  ever. 

5  The  sun  also  riseth,  and  the  sun  goeth  down  ; 
And  panteth  toward  the  place  at  which  it  will  rise 

again. 

6  The  wind  goeth  toward  the  south,  and  veereth  to 

the  north ; 

'  Just  as  we  speak  of  this  "  sublunary  world,"  so  "under  the 
sun"  is  the  characteristic  designation  of  the  earth  throughout 
this  Book. 


70  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

It  whirleth  round  and  round  ; 

And  the  wind  returneth  on  its  course, 

7  All  the  streams  run  into  the  sea,  yet  the  sea  is  not 

full; 
To  the  place  whence  the  streams  came,  thither  they 
return  again. 

8  All  things  are  weary  with  toil.     Man  cannot  utter  it. 
The  eye  can  never  be  satisfied  with  seeing, 

Nor  the  ear  with  hearing. 

9  What  hath  been  will  be. 

And  that  which  is  done  is  that  which  will  be  done ; 
And  there  is  no  new  thing  under  the  sun. 

10  If  there  be  anything  of  which  it  is  said,  "  Behold, 

this  is  new  !  " 
It  hath  been  long  ago,  in  the  ages  that  were  before 
us. 

1 1  There  is  no  remembrance  of  those  who  have  been  ; 
Nor  will  there  be  any  remembrance  of  men  who  are 

to  come 
Among  those  that  will  live  after  them. 


FIRST   SECTION. 

THE   QUEST  OF  THE   CHIEF  GOOD  IN  WISDOM 
AND  IN  PLEASURE. 

Chap.  I.,  v.  12,  to  Chap.  II.,  v.  26. 

12  I,  THE  Preacher,  was  King  over  Israel,       The  Quest  in 

T  .  Wisdom. 

Ill  Jerusalem : 

Ch.  i.,vv.  12-18. 

13  And    I    applied    my  heart    to  survey 

and  search  by  wisdom 
Into  all  that  is  done  under  heaven  : 
This  sore  task  hath  God  given  to  the  children  of 

men. 
To  exercise  themselves  therewith. 

14  I  have  considered  all  the  works  that  are  done  under 

the  sun, 

Ver.  13.  To  survey  and  search  into,  etc.  The  verbs  indicate 
the  broad  extent  which  his  researches  covered,  and  the  depth  to 
which  they  penetrated. 

Ver.  14.  Vexation  of  spirit.  Literally,  "striving  after  the 
wind."  But  the  time-honoured  phrase,  "vexation  of  spirit," 
sufficiently  expresses  the  writer's  meaning ;  and  it  seems 
better  to  retain  it  than,  with  the  Revised  Version,  to  introduce 
the  Hebrew  metaphor,  which  has  a  somewhat  novel  and  foreign 
sound. 


72  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

And,   behold,  they  are   all  vanity  and  vexation  of 
spirit. 

1 5  That  which  is  crooked  cannot  be  set  straight, 
And  that  which  is  lacking  cannot  be  made  up. 

1 6  Therefore  I  spake  to  my  heart,  saying, 
Lo,  I  have  acquired  greater  wisdom 
Than  all  who  were  before  me  in  Jerusalem, 

My  heart    having  seen   much  wisdom   and   know- 
ledge ; 
ly  For  I  had  given  my  heart  to  find  knowledge  and 
wisdom. 
I  perceive  that  even  this  is  vexation  of  spirit ; 
1 8  For  in  much  wisdom  is  much  sadness. 

And  to  multiply  knowledge  is  to  multiply  sorrow. 


I   Then  I  said  to  my  heart,  The  Quest  in 

Go   to,  now  let  me  prove  thee  with 

Ch.ii.,  vv.i-ii. 


mirth, 

And  thou  shalt  see  pleasure  : 
And,  lo,  this  too  is  vanity ! 


Ver.  17.  To  find  knowledge  and  wisdojn  Both  the  Author- 
ized and  Revised  Versions  render  "  to  know  wisdom,  and  to 
know  madness  and  folly T  The  latter  clause,  however,  violates 
both  the  sense  and  the  grammatical  construction.  The  word 
translated  "  to  know  "  is  not  an  infinitive,  but  a  noun,  and  should 
be  rendered  "knowledge;"  the  word  translated  "  folly  "  means 
"  prudence,"  and  the  word  translated  "  madness  "  hardly  means 


TRANSLATION.  73 


2  To  mirth  I  said,  Thou  art  mad  ! 

And  to  pleasure,  What  canst  thou  do  ? 

3  I    thought    in    my    heart    to    cheer    my  body  with 

pleasure. 
While  my  spirit  guided  it  wisely, 
And  to  lay  hold  on  folly, 
Till  I  should  see  what  it  is  good  for  the  sons  of 

men  to  do  under  heaven. 
Through  the  brief  day  of  their  life. 

4  I  gave  myself  to  great  works  ; 

I  builded  me  houses ;  I  planted  me  vineyards  ; 

5  I  made  me  gardens  and  parks, 

And  I  planted  in  them  all  manner  of  fruit-trees ; 

6  I  made  me  tanks  of  water. 
From  which  to  water  the  groves  : 

7  I  bought  me  men-servants  and  maid-servants. 
And  had  servants  born  in  my  house. 

I  had  also  many  herds  of  oxen  and  sheep, 

More  than  all  who  were  before  me  in  Jerusalem  : 

8  I  heaped  up  silver  and  gold. 

And  the  treasures  of  kings  and  of  kingdoms  : 

more  than  "  folly."  The  text,  too,  seems  corrupt.  The  sense  of 
the  passage  is  against  it,  I  think,  as  it  now  stands  ;  for  the  design 
of  the  Preacher  is  simply  to  show  the  insufficiency  of  wisdom 
and  knowledge,  not  to  prove  folly  foolish.  On  the  whole,  there- 
fore, it  seems  better  to  follow  the  high  authority  which  arranges 
the  text  as  it  is  here  rendered.  The  Hebraist  will  find  the 
question  fully  discussed  in  Ginsbttrg. 


74  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


I  got  me  men-singers  and  women-singers ; 
And  took  delight  in  many  fair  concubines  : 
9  So  that   I    surpassed  all  who  were  before  me  in 
Jerusalem, 
My  wisdom  abiding  with  me  ; 

10  And  nothing  that  my  eyes  desired  did  I  withhold 

from  them, 
1  did  not  keep  back  my  heart  from  any  pleasure ; 
For  my  heart  took  joy  in  all  my  toil. 
And  this  was  my  portion  therefrom. 

1 1  But  when  I  turned  to  look  on  all  the  works  which 

my  hands  had  wrought. 
And  at  the  labour  which  it  cost  me  to  accomplish 

them, 
Behold,  all  was  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. 
And  there  was  no  profit  under  the  sun. 


1 2  Then    I    turned    to  compare  wisdom       Wisdom  and 

•  ,i  J  1    r  71  Pleasure 

with  madness  and  folly — 

•"^  compared. 

And  what  can  he  do  that  cometh  after      ch.  ii.,vv.  12-23. 

the  king 
Whom  they  made  king  long  ago  ? — 

13  And  I  saw  that  wisdom  excelleth  folly 
As  far  as  light  excelleth  darkness  : 

14  The  wise  man  s  eyes  are  in  his  head. 
While  the  fool  walketh  blindly. 


TRANSLA  TION.  75 


Nevertheless  I  knew  that  the  same  fate  will  befall 
both. 

1 5  Therefore  I  spake  with  my  heart : 

"A  fate  like  that  of  the  fool  will  befall  me,  even  me  ; 
To  what  end,  then,  am  I  wiser  ?  " 
And  I  said  to  my  heart  : 
"  This  too  IS  vanity, 

16  For  there  is  no  more  remembrance  of  the  wise  man 

than  of  the  fool ; 
For  both  will  be  forgotten, 
As  in  time  past  so  also  in  days  to  come  : 
And,    alas,    the    wise    man     dieth    even    as    the 

fool  !  " 

17  So  life  became  hateful  to  me,  for  a  sore  burden  was 

upon  me. 
Even  the  labour  which  I  wrought  under  the  sun  ; 
Since  all  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit : 

18  Yea,  I  hated  all  the  gain  which  I  had  gained  under 

the  sun, 
Because  I  must  leave  it  to  the  man  who  shall  come 
after  me, 

19  And  who  can  tell  whether  he  will  be  a  wise  man  or 

a  fool  ? 
Yet  shall  he  have  power  over  all  my  gain 
Which  I  have  wisely  gained  under  the  sun  : 
This  too  is  vanity. 

20  Then  I  turned  and  gave  my  heart  up  to  despair 


76  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


*     Concerning  all  the  gain  which  I  had  gained  under 
the  sun  ; 

21  For  here  is  a  man  who  hath  laboured  wisely,  and 

prudently,  and  dexterously. 
And  he  must  leave  it  as  a  portion  to  one  who  hath 

not  laboured  therein  : 
This  also  is  vanity  and  a  great  evil ; 

22  For  man  hath  nothing  of  all  his  heavy  labour,  . 
And  the  vexation  of  his  heart  under  the  sun, 

23  Since  his  task  grieveth  and  vexeth  him  all  his  days, 
And  even  at  night  his  heart  hath  no  rest : 

This  too  is  vanity. 


24  There    is    nothing    better  for  a   man     The  Conclusion. 

than  to  eat  and  to  drink,  ^"^^  "•'^^-  ^^-^e. 

And  to  let  his  soul  take  pleasure  in  his  labour. 
But  even  this,  I  saw,  cometh  from  God ; 

25  For  who  can  eat, 

And  who  enjoy  himself,  apart  from  Him  ? 

26  For  to  the  man  who  is  good  before  Him, 
He  giveth  wisdom  and  knowledge  and  joy  ; 

But  to  the  sinner  He  giveth  the  task  to  gather  and 

to  heap  up. 
That  he  may  leave  it  to  him  who  is  good  before 

God: 
This  also  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. 


SECOND    SECTION. 

THE   QUEST  OF  THE  CHIEF  GOOD  IN  DEVOTION 
TO   THE  AFFAIRS  OF  BUSINESS. 

Chap,  III.,  v.  i,  to  Chap.  V.,  v,  20, 

1  There  is  a  time  for  all  things,  The  Quest 

.      ,  --  J      .    1  •  obstructed  by 

And   a  season  lor  every  undertaking       ^^.  .     ^  ^. 
under  heaven  :  nances  ,- 

2  A  time  to  be  born,  and  a  time  to  die ;      Ch.iii.,vv.i-is. 
A  time  to  plant,  and  a  time  to  pluck  up  plants ; 

3  A  time  to  kill,  and  a  time  to  heal ; 

A  time  to  break  down,  and  a  time  to  build  up ; 

4  A  time  to  weep,  and  a  time  to  laugh ; 
A  time  to  mourn,  and  a  time  to  dance ; 

5  A  time  to  cast  stones,  and   a   time  to  gather  up 

stones ; 
A  time  to  embrace,  and  a   time    to   refrain    from 
embracing ; 

6  A  time  to  get,  and  a  time  to  lose ; 

A  time  to  keep,  and  a  time  to  throw  away ; 

7  A  time  to  rend,  and  a  time  to  sew ; 

A  time  to  be  silent,  and  a  time  to  speak  ; 


78  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

8  A  time  to  love,  and  a  time  to  hate  ; 
A  time  for  war,  and  a  time  for  peace  : 

9  He  who  laboureth  hath  therefore  no  profit  from  his 

labours. 

10  I  have  considered  the  task  which  God  hath  given 

to  the  sons  of  men, 
To  exercise  themselves  withal : 

1 1  He     hath      made      everything     beautiful     in     its 

season ; 
He  hath  also  put  eternity  into  their  heart ; 
Only  they  understand  not  the  work  of  God  from 

beginning  to  end. 

12  I    found  that   there    was  no  good  for  them  but  to 

rejoice, 
And  to  do  themselves  good  all  their  life  ; 

1 3  But  also  that,  if  a  man  eat  and  drink. 
And  take  pleasure  in  all  his  labour, 
It  is  a  gift  of  God. 

14  I    found    too    that    whatever   God    hath   ordained 

continueth  for  ever ; 
Nothing  can  be  added  to  it. 
And  nothing  taken  from  it : 
And    God  hath    so   ordered  it  that   men  may  fear 

before  Him. 

15  That  which  is  hath  been. 

And  that  which  is  to  be  was  long  ago  ; 
For  God  recalleth  the  past. 


TRANSLATION.  79 


16  Moreover,  I  saw  under  the  sun  Andby Human 

,_,  ,  ....,,  Injustice  and 

Ihat  there  was  iniquity  111  the  place         „ 

^       -'  '^  Perversity. 

of  justice,  Ch.  iii.,  V.  16- 

And  in  the  place  of  equity  there  was        ^'^-  ^^'•'  ^-  3- 
iniquity. 

17  I  said  to  mine  heart  : 

"  God  will  judge  the  righteous  and  the  wicked. 
For  there  is  a  time  for  everything  and  for   every 
deed  with  Him." 

18  Yet  I  said  to  my  heart  of  the  children  of  men  : 
"  God  hath  sifted  them. 

To  show  that  they,  even  they,  are  but  as  beasts. 

19  For  a  mere  chance  is  man,  and  the  beast  a  mere 

chance, 
And  they  are  both  subject  to  the  same  chance ; 
As  is  the  death  of  the  one,  so  is  the  death  of  the 

other ; 
And  both  have  the  same  spirit : 
And  the  man  hath  no  advantage  over  the  beast, 
For  both  are  vanity  : 

20  Both  go  to  the  same  place  ; 

Both     sprang     from    dust,    and    both    turn    into 
dust : 

21  And  who  knoweth  whether  the  spirit  of  man  goeth 

upward, 

Ver.  21.  The  question  is  here,  as  so  often  in  Hebrew,  the 


8o  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

Or  the  spirit  of  the  beast  goeth  downward  to  the 

earth  ?  " 
22  Wherefore  I   saw  that  there  is  nothing  better  for 

man 
Than  to  rejoice  in  his  labours ; 
For  this  is  his  portion  : 
And  who  shall  give  him  to  see  what  will  be  after 

him  ? 

1  Then  I  turned  to  consider  once  more  iv. 
All    the    oppressions   that    are    done    under    the 

sun : 
I  beheld  the  tears  of  the  oppressed, 
And  they  had  no  comforter  ; 
And  their  oppressors  were  violent, 
Yet  had  they  no  comforter  : 

2  And  I  accounted  the  dead  who  died  long  ago 
Happier  than  the  living  who  are  still  alive ; 

3  While  happier  than  either  is  he  who  hath  not  been 

born. 
Who  hath  not  seen  the  evil  which  is  done  under 
the  sun. 


strongest  form  of  negative.  As  in  ver.  ig  the  Preacher  affirms 
of  man  and  beast  that  "both  have  the  same  spirit,"  and,  in 
ver.  20,  that  "  both  go  to  the  same  place,"  so,  in  this  verse,  he 
emphatically  denies  that  there  is  any  difference  in  their 
destination  at  death. 


TRANSLATION. 


4  Then  too  I  saw  that  all  this  toil,  it  is  rendered 

And  all  this  dexterity  in  toil,  y"^  ^^  '!'  .^'^ 

•'  base  Origin 

Spring   from   man's   rivalry  with  his      of  Human  in- 

•    1  t  diisiries. 

neighbour : 

Ch.  iv.,  vv.  4-8. 

This  also  is  vanity  and  vexation  of 
spirit. 

5  The  sluggard  foldeth  his  hands, 
Yet  he  eateth  his  meat : 

6  Better  a  handful  of  quiet 

Than  two  handsful  of  labour  with  vexation  of  spirit. 

7  And  again  I  turned,  and  saw  a  vanity  under  the 

sun  : 

8  Here  is  a  man  who  hath  no  one  with  him, 
Not  even  a  son  or  a  brother  ; 

And  yet  there  is  no  end  of  all  his  labour, 

Neither  are  his  eyes  satisfied  with  riches  : 

For  whom,  then,  doth  he  labour  and  deny  his  soul 

any  of  his  wealth  ? 
This  too  is  vanity  and  an  evil  work. 

9  Two  are  better  than  one.  Yet  these  are 
Because  they  have  a  good  reward  for        capa,eofa 

''  nobler  Motive 

their  labour  :  and  Mode. 

10  For  if  one  fall,  the  other  will  lift  up      Ch.  iv.,  w.  9-16. 
his  fellow; 
But  woe  to  the  lonely  one  who  falleth 
And  hath  no  fellow  to  lift  him  up  ! 


82  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

1 1  Moreover,  if  two  sleep  together,  they  are  warm ; 
But  he  that  is  alone,  how  can  he  be  warm  ? 

12  And  if  an  enemy  assail  the  one,  two  will  withstand 

him. 
And  a  threefold  cord  is  not  easily  broken. 

13  Happier  is  a  poor  and  wise  youth 
Than  an  old  and  foolish  king 

Who  even  yet  has  not  learned  to  take  warning ; 

14  For  he  goeth  forth  from  the  prison  to  the  throne, 
Although  he  was  born  a  poor  man  in  the  kingdom. 

15  I  see  all  the  living  who  walk  under  the  sun 
Flocking  to  the  youth  who  stood  up  in  his  stead  ; 

16  There  is  no  end  to  the  multitude  of  the  people  over 

whom  he  ruleth  : 
Nevertheless    those    who   live    after    him    will    not 

rejoice  in  him  ; 
For  even  this  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. 


1  Keep  thy  foot  when  thou  goest  to  the      So  also  a  nobler 

and  happier 

House  of  God  ;  j^j^^^  ^f  ^,^^_ 

For  it  is  better  to  obey  than  to  offer      ship  is  open  to 

men  : 

the  sacrifice  of  fools,  Ch.  v.,  w.  1-7. 

Who  know  not  when  they  do  evil. 

2  Do  not  hurry  on  thy  mouth. 

And  do  not  force  thy  heart  to  utter  words  before 
God  ; 


TRANSLATION.  83 


For  God  is  in  heaven,  and  thou  upon  earth : 
Therefore  let  thy  words  be  Few. 

3  For  as  a  dream  cometh  through  much  occupation, 
So  fooHsh  talk  through  many  words. 

4  When  thou  vowest  a  vow  unto  God, 
Defer  not  to  pay  it ; 

For  he  is  a  fool  whose  will  is  not  steadfast. 
Pay  that  which  thou  hast  vowed. 

5  Better  that  thou  shouldest  not  vow 

Than  that  thou  shouldest  vow  and  not  pay. 

6  Suffer  not  thy  mouth  to  cause  thy  flesh  to  sin. 
And  say  not  before  the  Angel,  "  It  was  an  error  :  " 
For  why  should  God  be  angry  at  thine  idle  talk 
And  destroy  the  work  of  thy  hands  ? 

7  For  in  many  words,  as  in  many  dreams,  there  is 

vanity  : 
But  fear  thou  God. 


8  If  thou  seest  the  oppression  of  the       ieipfirZd 

PQQj-  consolatory 

Trust  ifi  the 

And  the  perversion  of  justice  in  the  Divine 

_,  Providence. 

'  Ch.  v.,  w.  8-17. 


Ver.  6.  Before  the  Angel.  That  is,  before  the  Angel  who, 
as  the  Hebrews  thought,  presided  over  the  altar  of  worship,  and 
who  was  present  even  when  only  two  or  three  met  for  the  study 
of  the  Law :  to  study  the  Law  being  in  itself  an  act  of  worship. 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


Be  not  dismayed  thereat ; 
For  superior  watcheth  superior, 
And  superiors  again  watch  over  them  : 
9  And  the  advantage   for  the  people  is,  that  it  ex- 
tendeth  to  all, 
For  even  the  king  is  servant  to  the  field. 

10  He  that  loveth  silver  is  never  satisfied  with  silver, 
Nor  he  that  clingeth  to  riches  with  what  they  yield  : 
This  too  is  vanity  ; 

1 1  For  when  riches  increase  they  increase    that  con- 

sume them  : 
What  advantage  then  hath  the  owner  thereof. 
Save  the  looking  thereupon  with  his  eyes  ? 

12  Sweet  is  the  sleep  of  the  husbandman, 
Whether  he  eat  little  or  much  ; 

While  abundance  suffereth  not  the  rich  to  sleep. 

13  There  is  a  great  evil  which  I  have  seen  under  the 

sun — 
Riches  hoarded  up  by  the  rich 
To  the  hurt  of  the  owner  thereof : 

14  For  the  riches  perish  in  some  unlucky  adventure, 


Ver.  g.  Some  commentators  prefer  another  possible  reading 
of  this  difficult  verse  :  But  the pi-ofit  of  a  land  is  every  way  a  king 
devoted  to  the  field,  i.e.  a  lover  and  promoter  of  good  husbandry. 
This  reading,  however,  does  not,  I  think,  harmonise  so  well  with 
the  context  as  that  given  above. 


TRANSLATION.  85 


And  he  begetteth  a  son  when  he  hath  nothing  in 
his  hand  : 

15  As  he  Cometh  forth  from  the  womb  of  his  mother, 
Even  as  he  cometh  naked, 

So  also  he  returneth  again, 

And  taketh  nothing  from  his  labour 

Which  he  may  carry  away  in  his  hand. 

16  This  also  is  a  great  evil, 

That  just  as  he  came  so  he  must  go. 
For  what   profit   hath    he  who   laboureth   for   the 
wind  ? 

17  Yet  all  his  days  he  eateth  in  darkness. 

And  is  much  perturbed,  and  hath  vexation  and  grief. 


18  Behold,   that  which   I    have   said   holds       The  Conclusion. 

good,—  ^^•^•'"^-  ''-"°- 

That  it  is  well  for  man  to  eat  and  to  drink 
And  to  enjoy  the  good  of  all  his  labour  wherein  he 

laboureth  under  the  sun, 
Through  the  brief  day  of  his  life  which  God  hath 

given  him  : 
For  this  is  his  portion. 

19  And  I  have  also  said, 

That  a  man  to  whom  God  hath  given  riches  and 

wealth. 
If  He  hath  also  enabled  him  to  eat  thereof. 


86  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

And   to   take   his   portion   and    to   rejoice    in    his 

labour ; — 
This  is  a  gift  of  God  : 
20  He  doth  not  fret  because  the  days  of  his  life  are  not 

many, 
For  God  hath  sanctioned  the  joy  of  his  heart. 


THIRD   SECTION. 

THE   QUEST  IN  WEALTH  AND  IN  THE 
GOLDEN  MEAN. 

Chaps.  VI.,  ver.  i,  to  VIII.,  ver.  15. 

1  There  is  another  evil  which  I  have       Tke  Quest  in 

,  ,  Wealth, 

seen  under  the  sun, 

He  who  viakes 

And  it  weigheth  heavily  upon  men  :  Riches  his 

2  Here  is  a  man  to  whom    God  hath       Chief  Good  is 

haunted  by 

given  riches  and  wealth  and  abund-      p^^rs  and  Per- 

ance,  pkxities: 

So  that  his  soul  lacketh  nothing  of  all 

that  it  desireth ; 
And  God  hath  not  given  him  the  power  to  enjoy  it, 
But  a  stranger  enjoyeth  it : 
This  is  vanity  and  a  great  evil. 

3  Though  one  beget  a  hundred  children, 
And  live  many  years. 

Yea,  however  many  the  days  of  his  years, 
Yet  if  his  soul  be  not  satisfied  with  good. 
Even  though  the  grave  did  not  wait  for  him. 
Better  is  an  abortion  than  he  : 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


4  For  this  cometh  in  nothingness  and  goeth  in  darkness, 
And  its  memory  is  shrouded  in  darkness ; 

5  It  doth  not  even  see  and  know  the  sun  : 
It  hath  more  rest  than  he. 

6  And  if  he  hve  twice  a  thousand  years  and  see  no 

good : — 
Do  not  both  go  to  the  same  place  ? 


7  All  the  labour  of  this  man  is  for  his        For  God  has 

, ,  put  Eternity 

mouth  ;  ,  ,■  rj     , 

into  his  Heart ; 

Therefore  his  soul  cannot  be  satisfied  :      ch.  vi.,w.7-io. 

8  For  what  advantage  hath  the  wise  man  over  the  fool, 
Or  what  the  poor  man  over  the  stately  magnate  ? 

9  It  is  better,  indeed,  to  enjoy  the  good  we  have 
Than  to  crave  a  good  beyond  our  reach  : 

Yet  even  this  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. 
lO  That  which  hath  been  was  long  since  ordained  ; 
And  it  is  very  certain  that  even  the  greatest  is  but 

a  man, 
And  cannot  contend  with  Him  who  is  mightier  than 

he. 

Ver.  8.  The  magnate.  Literally,  "he  who  knoweth  to  walk 
before  the  living  ;  "  some  "great  person,"  some  man  of  eminent 
station,  who  is  much  in  the  eye  of  the  public. 

Ver.  9.  To  enjoy  the  good  we  have,  etc.  Literally,  'Better  is 
that  which  is  seen  by  the  eyes  (the  present  good)  than  that  which 
is  pursued  by  the  soul  (the  distant  and  uncertain  good)." 


TRANSLATION. 


89 


1 1    Moreover  there  are  many  things  which      And  muck  that 

he  ^ains  only 

increase  vanity :  "^  -^ 

feeds  Vanity  ; 

What  advantage  then  hath  man  ? 


12  And  who  knoweth  what  is  good  for  Nor  can  he 

. .  -  tell  what  will 

man  in  hie, 

'  become  of  his 

The  brief  day  of  his  vain  hfe  which  he  Gains. 

spendeth  as  a  shadow  ? 
And  who  can  tell  what  shall  be  after  him  under  the 

sun  ? 


The  Quest  in 

the  Golden 

Mean. 

The  Method  of 

the  Man  tvho 

pursues  it. 

Ch.vii.,w.  1-14. 


1  A  good  name  is  better  than  good  nard, 
And  the  day  of  death  better  than  the 

day  of  one's  birth  : 

2  It    is    better    to   go    to   the  house   of 

mourning 
Than  to  the  house  of  feasting, 
Because  this  is  the  end  of  every  man, 
And  the  living  should  lay  it  to  heart : 

3  Better  is  serious  thought  than  wanton  mirth, 
For  by  a  sad  countenance  the  heart  is  bettered  : 

4  The  heart  of  the  wise  therefore  is  in  the  house  of 

mourning, 
But  in  the  house  of  mirth  is  the  heart  of  fools. 


Ver.  2.  "  Because  this  is  the  end;"  i.e.  the  death  bewailed  in 
the  house  of  mourning. 


90  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

5  It  is  better  for  a  man  to  listen  to  the  reproof  of  the 

wise 
Than  to  listen  to  the  song  of  fools  ; 

6  For  the  laughter  of  fools  is  like  the  crackling  of 

thorns  under  a  pot : 
This  also  is  vanity. 

7  Wrong-doing  maketh  the  wise  man  mad, 
As  a  bribe  corrupteth  the  heart. 

8  The  end  of  a  reproof  is  better  than  its  beginning, 
And  patience  is  better  than  pride  ; 

9  Therefore  hurry  not  on  thy  spirit  to  be  angry : 
For  anger  is  nursed  in  the  bosom  of  fools. 

10  Say  not,  "  How  is  it  that  former  days  were  better 

than  these  ?  " 
For  that  is  not  the  part  of  wisdom. 

1 1  Wisdom  is  as  good  as  wealth, 

And  hath  an  advantage  over  it  for  those  who  lead 
an  active  life : 

12  For  wisdom  is  a  shelter, 

Ver.  6.  The  laughter  of  fools,  etc.  There  is  a  play  on  words 
in  the  original  which  cannot  be  reproduced  in  English.  Dean 
Plumptre,  following  the  lead  of  Delitzsch,  proposes  as  the  nearest 
equivalents,  "As  crackling  nettles  under  kettles,"  or  "As  crack- 
ling stubble  makes  the  pot  bubble." 

Ver.  II.  Those  who  lead  ati  active  life.  Literally,  "those 
who  see  the  sun,''  i.e.  those  who  are  much  in  the  sun,  who  lead 
a  busy  active  life,  are  much  occupied  with  traffic  or  public  affairs. 

Ver.  12.  Fortifieth  the  heart ;  i.e.  quickens  life,  a  new  life,  a 


TRANSLATION.  91 


And  wealth  is  a  shelter  ; 

But  the  advantage  of  wisdom  is 

That  it  fortifieth  the  heart  of  them  that  have  it. 

13  Consider  moreover  the  work  of  God, 

Since  no  man  can  straighten  that  which  He  hath 
made  crooked. 

14  In  the  day  of  prosperity  be  thou  content ; 
And  in  the  day  of  adversity 

Consider  that  God  hath  made  this  as  well  as  that, 
In  order  that  man  should  not  be  able  to  foresee  that 
which  is  to  come. 


1 5  In  my  fleeting  days  I  have  seen  The  Perils  to 
Both  the  righteous  die  in  his  right-  '   , . 

"  "  poses  ntm. 

eOUSneSS,  (i)  He  is  likely 

And  the  wicked  live  long  in  his  wicked-      ''  compromise 

Conscience  : 

ness  :  Ch.  vii., 

16  Be  not  too  righteous  therefore,  ^^-  ^S-so. 
Nor  make  thyself  too  wise  lest  thou  be  abandoned  ; 

17  Be  not  very  wicked,  nor  yet  very  foolish, 

life  which  keeps  the  heart  tranquil  and  serene  under  all  chances 
and  changes. 

Ver.  14.  Itt  the  day  of  prosperity,  etc.  Literally,  "  in  the  day 
of  good  be  in  good."  It  may  be  rendered  "  in  the  good  day  be  of 
good  cheer."  This  as  well  as  that ;  i.e.  adversity  as  well  as 
prosperity.  God  sends  both  in  order  that,  not  foreseeing  what 
will  come  to  pass,  we  may  live  in  a  constant  and  humble 
dependence  on  Him. 


92  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

Lest  thou  die  before  thy  time  : 

1 8  It  is  better  that  thou  shouldest  lay  hold  of  this 
And  also  not  let  go  of  that  ; 

For  whoso  feareth  God  will  take  hold  on  both. 

19  This  wisdom  alone  is  greater  strength  to  the  wise 
Than  an  army  to  a  beleaguered  city ; 

20  For  there  is  not  a  righteous  man  on  earth 
Who  doeth  good  and  sinneth  not. 

2 1  Moreover  seek  not  to  know  all  that  is       (2)  To  be  in- 

•  1      r  .  1  different  to 

said  01  thee,  ^ 

'  Censure : 

Lest  thou  hear  thy  servant  speak  evil  ch.  vii., 

of  thee ;  ^^-  ^^'  ^^^ 

22  For  thou  knowest  in  thine  heart 

That  thou  also  hast  many  times  spoken  evil  of  others. 

23  All  this  wisdom  have  I  tried ; 

I  desired  a  higher  wisdom,  but  it  was  far  from  me ; 

24  That  which  was  far  off  remaineth  far  off, 
And  deep  remaineth  deep  : 

Who  can  find  it  out  ? 

Ver.  18.  This  .  .  .  and  that.  This  refers  to  the  folly  and 
wickedness  of  ver.  17,  and  that  to  the  wisdom  and  righteousness 
of  ver.  16.     Take  hold  on  both.     Literally,  "  go  along  with  both." 

Ver.  19.  This  wisdom:  viz.  the  moderate  common-sense 
view  of  life  which  has  just  been  described.  Than  an  army, 
etc.     Literally,  "  Than  ten  {i.e.  many)  mighty  men  in  a  city." 

Ver.  21.  Seek  not  to  know,  etc.  Literally,  "  Give  not  thy 
heart  (even  if  thy  ears)  to  all  words  that  are  uttered." 


TRANSLATION.  93 


25  Then  I  and  my  heart  turned  to  know      (3)  To  despise 

,  .  .     ,  Women; 

this  Wisdom 

Ch.  vii., 

And  diligently  examine  it —  vv.  25-29. 

To  discover  the  cause  of  wickedness,  vice, 
And  that  folly  which  is  madness  : 

26  And  I  found  woman  more  bitter  than  death ; 
She  is  a  net ; 

Her  heart  is  a  snare,  and  her  hands  are  chains  : 
Whoso  is  good  before  God  shall  escape  her. 
But  the  sinner  shall  be  taken  by  her. 

27  Behold,  what  I  have  found,  saith  the  Preacher — 
Taking  things  one  by  one  to  reach  the  result — 

28  I  have  found  one  man  among  a  thousand, 

But  in  all  that  number  a  woman  have  I  not  found  : 

29  Lo,  this  only  have  I  found. 
That  God  made  man  upright, 

But  that  they  seek  out  many  devices. 


Who  is  like  the  wise  man  ?  (4)  And  to  be 

And  who  like  him  that  understandeth      ll\,.^7J! 

Fiiblic  Wrongs. 

the  interpretation  of  this  saying  ?  ch.  viii., 

The  wisdom  of  this  man  maketh  his  ^^-  ^"^3- 


face  bright. 
And  his  rude  features  are  refined. 


Ver.  I.  This  saying :  i.e.  that  which  follows.  And  his  rude 
features,  etc.  Culture  lends  an  air  of  refinement  to  the  face, 
carriage,  manners. 


94  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

2  I  say  then,  Obey  the  king's  commandment, 
And  the  rather  because  of  the  oath  of  fealty  : 

3  Do  not  throw  off  thine  allegiance, 
Nor  resent  an  evil  word, 

For  he  can  do  whatsoever  he  please ; 

4  For  the  word  of  a  king  is  mighty  ; 

And  who  shall  say  to  him,  "  What  doest  thou  ?  " 

5  Whoso  keepeth  his  commandment  will  know  no  evil. 
Moreover  the  heart  of  the  wise  man  foreseeth  a  time 

of  retribution — 

6  "For  there  is  a  time  of  retribution  for  all  things — 
When  the  tyranny  of  man  is  heavy  upon  him  : 

7  Because  he  knoweth  not  what  will  be, 

And  because  no  one  can  tell  him  when  it  will  be. 

8  No  man  is  ruler  over  his  own  spirit, 
To  retain  the  spirit, 

Ver.  2.  The  oath  of  fealty.  Literally,  "the  oath  by  God." 
The  Babylonian  and  Persian  despots  exacted  an  oath  of  loyalty 
from  conquered  races.  Each  had  to  swear  by  the  god  he 
worshipped. 

Ver.  3.  Do  not  throw  off,  etc.  Literally,  "  Do  not  hurry  from 
his  presence,  or  even  stand  up  because  of  an  evil  word."  To 
stand  up  in  the  divan  of  an  Eastern  despot  is  a  sign  of  resent- 
ment ;  to  rush  from  it  a  sign  of  disloyalty  and  rebellion. 

Ver.  7.  Because  he  knoweth  not;  i.e.  the  tyrant  does  not 
know.  The  sense  seems  to  be  :  Retribution  is  all  the  more 
certain  because,  in  his  infatuation,  the  despot  does  not  foresee 
the  disastrous  results  of  his  tyranny,  and  because  no  one  can  tell 
him  when  or  how  they  will  disclose  themselves. 


TRANSLATION.  95 


Nor  has  he  any  power  over  the  day  of  his  death ; 
And  there  is  no  furlough  in  this  war, 
And  no  craft  will  save  the  wicked. 
9  All  this  have  I  seen, 

Having  applied  my  heart  to  all  that  is  done  under 
the  sun. 

10  But  there  is  a  time  when  a  man  ruleth  over  men  to 

their  hurt. 
Thus  I  have  seen  wicked  men  buried. 
And  come  again  ; 
And  those  who  did  right  depart  from  the  place  of 

the  holy, 
And  be  forgotten  in  the  city  : 
This  also  is  vanity. 

1 1  Because  sentence  against  an  evil  deed  is  not  exe- 

cuted forthwith, 
The  heart  of  the  sons  of  men  is  set  in  them  to  do 
evil. 

12  Though  a  sinner  do  evil  a  hundred  years, 
And  groweth  old  therein, 

Ver.  9.  All  this  have  I  seen;  i.e.  all  this  retribution  on  tjTants 
and  the  consequent  deliverance  of  the  oppressed. 

Ver.  10.  But  the  Preacher  has  also  seen  times  when  retributive 
justice  did  not  overtake  the  oppressors,  when  they  came  agam 
in  the  persons  of  children  as  wicked  and  tyrannical  as  them- 
selves. 

Ver.  II.  Because  sentefice,  etc.  "  God  does  not  always  pay  on 
Saturdays,"  says  an  old  Italian  proverb. 


96  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

Yet  I  know  that  it  shall  be  well  with  those  who 

fear  God, 
Who  truly  fear  before  Him  ; 

13  And  it  shall  not  be  well  with  the  wicked, 

But,  like  a  shadow,  he  shall  not  prolong  his  days, 
Because  he  doth  not  fear  before  God. 

14  Nevertheless,  this  vanity  doth  happen       Therefore  the 

,1  ,1  Preacher  con- 

on  the  earth, 

demns  this 

That   there    are    righteous    men    who  View  of 

have  a  wage  like  that  of  the  wicked,       ^^""""'  ^■'^'^ 

And  there  are  wicked  men  who  have  a  wage  like 
that  of  the  righteous  : 

This  too,  I  said,  is  vanity. 

15  And  I  commended  mirth, 

Because  there  is  nothing  better  for  man  under  the 

sun 
Than  to  eat,  and  to  drink,  and  to  be  merry ; 
For  this  will  go  with  him  to  his  work 
Through  the  days  of  his  life, 
Which  God  giveth  him  under  the  sun. 

Ver.  15.  "  And  tins  will  go  with  him  :  "  viz.  this  clear  enjoying 
temper,  than  which,  as  yet,  the  Preacher  has  found  "  nothing 
better." 


FOURTH   SECTION. 

THE   QUEST  OF  THE   CHIEF  GOOD  ACHIEVED. 
Chap.  VIII.,  ver.  i6,  to  Chap.  XII.,  ver.  7. 

16  As  then  I  applied  my  heart  to  acquire      The  Chief  Good 

.  not  to  be  found 

Wisdom,  .    „,.  , 

'  in  Wisdom  : 

And  to  see  the  worlc  which  is  done  ch.  viii.,  v.  16- 
under  the  sun—  '^^-  '•^-  ^-  ^• 

And  such  a  one  seeth  no  sleep  with  his  eyes  by 
day  or  by  night : 

17  I  saw  that  man  cannot  find  out  all  the  work  of  God 
Which  is  done  under  the  sun  ; 

Though  man  labour  to  discover  it, 

He  cannot  find  it  out ; 

And  though  the  wise  may  say  he  understandeth  it 

Ver.  17.  To  illustrate  this  verse  Dean  Plumptre  happily 
quotes  Hooker's  noble  and  familiar  words  :  "  Dangerous  it 
were  for  the  feeble  brain  of  man  to  wade  far  into  the  doings 
of  the  Most  High  ;  whom  although  to  know  be  life,  and  joy  to 
make  mention  of  His  name,  yet  our  soundest  knowledge  is  to 
know  that  we  know  Him  not  as  indeed  He  is,  neither  can  know 
Him,  and  our  safest  eloquence  concerning  Him  is  our  silence, 
when  we  confess  without  confession  that  His  glory  is  inexplicable, 
his  greatness  above  our  capacity  and  reach." 

7 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


Nevertheless  he  hath  not  found  it  out. 

1  For  all  this  have  I  taken  to  heart  and  explored,    ix. 
That  the  righteous,  and  the  wise,  and  their  labours 

are  in  the  hand  of  God  : 
They  know  not  whether  they  shall  meet  love  or 

hatred  ; 
All  lies  before  them. 
All  are  treated  alike ; 

2  The  same  fate  befalleth  to  the  righteous  and  to  the 

wicked, 
To  the  good  and  pure  and  to  the  impure. 
To  him  that  sacrificeth  and  to  him  that  sacrificeth 

not ; 
As  with  the  good  so  is  it  with  the  sinner. 
With  him  that  sweareth  as  with  him  who  feareth 

an  oath. 

3  This  is  the  greatest  evil  of  all  that  is  done  under 

the  sun, 

Ver.  I.  They  know  not  whether  they  shall  meet  love  or  hatred 
may  mean  that  even  the  wisest  cannot  tell  whether  they  shall 
meet  (i)  the  love  or  the  enmity  of  God,  as  shown  in  adverse  or 
favourable  providences  ;  or  (2)  the  things  which  they  love  or  hate  ; 
or  (3)  the  love  or  the  hatred  of  their  fellows.  The  last  of  the 
three  seems  the  most  likely. 

All  lies  before  them  ;  i.e.  all  possible  chaaces,  changes,  events. 
Only  God  can  determine  or  foresee  what  is  coming  to  meet  them. 

Ver.  3.  The  words  of  this  verse  do  not,  as  they  stand,  seem 
to  carry  on  the  logical  sequence  of  thought.  The  Preacher's 
complaint  is  that  even  the  wise  and  the  good  are  not  exempted 


TRANSLA  TION.  99 


That  there  is  one  fate  for  all  : 

And  that,  although  the  heart  of  the  sons  of  men  is 

full  of  evil, 
And  madness  is  in  their  hearts  through  life. 
Yet,  after  it,  they  go  to  the  dead  ; 

4  For  who  is  exempted  ? 

To  all  the  living  there  is  hope. 

For  a  living  dog  is  better  than  a  dead  lion ; 

5  For  the  living  know  that  they  shall  die, 
But  the  dead  know  not  anything; 

And  there  is  no  more  any  compensation  to  them. 
For  the  very  memory  of  them  is  gone  : 

6  Their  love,  too,  no  less  than  their  hatred  and  rivalry, 

hath  perished ; 
And  there  is  no  part  for  them  in  ought  that  is  done 
under  the  sun. 

7  Go,  then,  eat  thy  bread  with  gladness.       Nor  in  Piea- 
And   drink  thy  wine   with    a   merry  "*''^' 

Ch.ix.,  vv.  7-12. 

heart. 
Since  God  hath  accepted  thy  works  : 

8  Let  thy  garments  be  always  white  ; 
Let  no  perfume  be  lacking  to  thy  head  : 

from  the  common  fate,  not  that  the  foolish  and  reckless  are 
exposed  to  it.  The  text  may  be  corrupt ;  but  Ginsburg  is 
content  with  it.  A  good  reading  of  it,  however,  is  still 
wanting. 


lOO  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

9  And  enjoy  thyself  with  any  woman  whom  thou  lovest 
All  the  days  of  thy  life 
Which  He  giveth  thee  under  the  sun, 
All  thy  fleeting  days  : 
For  this  is  thy  portion  in  life, 

And  in  the  labour  which  thou  labourest  under  the 
sun. 

10  Whatsoever  thine  hand  findeth  to  do, 
Do  it  whilst  thou  art  able ; 

For  there  is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge, 

nor  wisdom  in  Hades, 
Whither  thou  goest. 

1 1  Then  I  turned  and  saw  under  the  sun, 
That  the  race  is  not  to  the  swift, 

Nor  the  battle  to  the  strong ; 
Nor  yet  bread  to  the  wise. 
Nor  riches  to  the  intelligent, 
Nor  favour  to  the  learned ; 

12  But  time  and  chance  happen  to  all, 

And  that  man  doth  not  even  know  his  time : 
Like  fish  taken  in  a  fatal  net. 


Ver.  9.  "  Enjoy  thyself  with  any  woman."  The  word  here 
rendered  "  woman  "  does  not  mean  "wife."  And  as  the  Hebrew 
Preacher  is  here  speaking  under  the  mask  of  the  lover  of  plea- 
sure, this  immoral  maxim  is  at  least  consistent  with  the  part  he 
plays.  More  than  one  good  critic,  however,  read  "  a  wife  "  for 
"  any  woman." 


TRANSLA  TION. 


And  like  birds  caught  in  a  snare, 

So  are  the  sons  of  men  entrapped  in  the  time  of 

their  calamity, 
When  it  falleth  suddenly  upon  them. 

1 3  This  wisdom  also  have  I  seen  under       Nor  iu  Devo- 

.1  tion  to  Public 

the  sun,  ^^  . 

Affairs  ana  its 

And  it  seemed  great  to  me —  Rewards: 

14  There  was  a  little  city,  ^^-  ^^-  ^-  ^3- 

Ch.  X.,  V.  20. 

And  few  men  in  it. 

And  a  great  king  came  against  it  and  besieged  itj 

And  threw  up  a  military  causeway  against  it : 

15  Now  there  was  found  in  it  a  poor  wise  man, 
And  he  saved  that  city  by  his  wisdom  ; 

Yet  no  one  remembered  this  same  poor  man. 

16  Therefore  say  I, 

Though  wisdom  is  better  than  strength. 
Yet  the  wisdom  of  the  poor  is  despised. 
And  his  words  are  not  listened  to : 

17  Though   the  quiet   words   of  the   wise   have   much 

advantage 
Over  the  vociferations  of  a  fool  of  fools, 
And  wisdom  is  better  than  weapons  of  war. 
Yet  one  fool  destroyeth  much  good : 
I   As  a  dead  fly  maketh  sweet  ointment  to  stink,        x. 
So  a  little  folly  overpowereth  (much)  wisdom  and 
honour. 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


2  Nevertheless  the  mind  of  the  wise  man  turns  toward 

his  right  hand, 
But  the  mind  of  the  fool  to  his  left ; 

3  For  so  soon  as  the  fool    setteth  his    foot    in    the 

street 
He  betrayeth  his  lack  of  understanding  ; 
Yet  he  saith  of  every  one  (he  meeteth),   "  He  is  a 

fool ! " 

4  If  the  anger  of  thy  ruler  be  kindled  against  thee, 
Resent  it  not  : 

Patience  will  avert  a  graver  wrong. 

5  There  is  an  evil  which  I  have  seen  under  the  sun, 
An  outrage  which  only  a  ruler  can  commit : 

6  A  great  fool  is  lifted  to  high  place. 
While  the  noble  sit  degraded : 

7  I  have  seen  servants  upon  horses, 

And  masters  walking  like  servants  on  the  ground. 

Ver  3.  Setteth  his  foot  in  the  street.  Literally,  "  walketh  in 
the  road."  The  sentence  seems  to  be  a  proverb  used  to  denote 
the  extreme  stupidity  of  the  fool  who,  the  very  moment  lie  leaves 
his  house,  is  bewildered,  cannot  even  find  his  way  from  one 
familiar  spot  to  another,  and  sees  his  own  folly  in  every  face 
he  meets. 

Ver.  4.  Resent  it  not.  Literally,  "  Quit  not  thy  place." — 
See  note  on  chapter  viii.,  ver.  3. 

Ver.  7.  To  ride  upon  a  horse  is  still  a  mark  of  distinction  in 
many  Eastern  States.  In  Turkish  cities,  till  of  late,  no  Christian 
was  permitted  to  ride  any  nobler  beast  than  an  ass  or  a  mule  :  so 
neither  were  the  Jev\s,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  in  anjr  Christian  city. 


TRANSLATION.    ■  103 


8  Yet  he  that  diggeth  a  pit  shall  fall  into  it ; 

And  whoso  breaketh  down  a  wall  a  serpent  shall 
bite  him  ; 

9  He  who  pulleth  down    stones  shall  be  hurt  there- 

with ; 
And  whoso  cleaveth  logs  shall  be  cut. 

10  If  the  axe  be  blunt,  and  he  do  not  whet  the  edge, 
He  must  put  on  more  strength  ; 

But  wisdom  should  teach  him  to  sharpen  it. 

1 1  If  the  serpent  bite  because  it  is  not  charmed, 
There  is  no  advantage  to  the  charmer. 

12  The  words  of  the  wise  man's  mouth  win  him  grace ; 
But  the  lips  of  a  fool  swallow  him  up, 

Ver.  10.  Ginsburg  renders  this  difficult  and  much-disputed 
passage  thus  :  "  If  the  axe  be  blunt,  and  he  do  not  sharpen  it 
beforehand,  he  shall  only  increase  the  army ;  the  advantage 
of  repairing  hath  wisdom,"  and  explains  it  as  meaning  :  "  If  any 
insulted  subject  lift  a  blunt  axe  against  the  trunk  of  despotism,  he 
will  only  make  the  tyrant  increase  his  army,  and  thereby  aug- 
ment his  own  sufferings  ;  but  it  is  the  prerogative  of  wisdom  to 
repair  the  mischief  which  such  precipitate  folly  occasions."  I 
have  offered  what  seems  a  simpler  explanation  in  the  comment 
on  this  passage,  and  have  tried  to  give  a  simpler,  yet  not  less 
accurate,  rendering  in  the  text.  But  there  are  almost  as  many 
readings  of  this  difficult  verse  as  there  are  critics  ;  and  it  is  im- 
possible to  do  more  than  make  a  hesitating  choice  among  them. 

Ver.  II.  T/ie  charmer.  Literally,  "the  master  of  the  tongue." 
The  allusion  of  the  phrase  is  of  course  to  the  subtle  cantillations 
by  which  the  charmer  drew,  or  was  thought  to  draw,  serpents 
from  their  "  lurk,"  and  to  render  them  harmless. 


I04  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

13  For    the    words    of    his    mouth    are    folly   at  the 

beginning, 
And  end  in  malignant  madness. 

14  The  fool  is  full  of  words, 

Though  no  man  knoweth  what  shall  be. 
Either  here  or  hereafter  : 
And  who  can  tell  him  ? 

1 5  The  work  of  a  fool  wearieth  him. 

For  he  cannot  even  find  his  way  to  the  city. 

16  Woe  to  thee,  O  land,  when  thy  king  is  a  child. 
And  thy  princes  feast  in  the  morning  ! 

17  Happy  art  thou,  O  land,  when  thy  king  is  noble, 
And  thy  princes  eat  at  due  hours. 

For  strength  and  not  for  revelry  ! 

18  Through  slothful  hands  the  roof  falleth  in. 

And  through  lazy  hands  the  house  lets  in  the  rain. 

19  They  turn   bread,  and   wine,   which    cheereth    life, 

into  revelry  ; 
And  money  has  to  pay  for  all. 

Ver.  15.  He  cannot  even  find  his  way  to  the  city  ;  a  proverbial 
saying.  It  denotes  the  fool  who  has  not  wit  enough  even  to  keep 
a  high  road,  to  walk  in  the  beaten  path  which  leads  to  a  capital 
city.  The  thought  was  evidently  familiar  to  Jewish  literature ;  for 
Isaiah  (xxxv.  8)  speaks  of  the  way  of  holiness  as  a  highway  in 
which  "  wayfaring  men,  though  fools,  shall  not  err.' 

Vers.  18,  19.  And  money  pays  for  all ;  i.e.  the  money  of  the  ■ 
people.     Tlie  slothful  prodigal  rulers,  under  whose  mal-adminis- 
tratiou  the  whole  fabric  of  the  State  was  fast  falling  into  decay, 
extorted  the  means  for  their  profligate  revelry  from  their  toil-worn 


TRANSLA  TION.  105 


20  Nevertheless  revile  not  the  king  even  in  thy  thoughts, 
Nor  a  prince  even  in  thy  bed-chamber, 
Lest  the  bird  of  the  air  carry  the  report, 
And  the  winged  tribes  tell  the  story. 


1  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  But  in  a  wise 

„       .        .  ,  /-      1     1  1        Use  and  a  wise 

r  or  in  time  thou  mayest  nnd  the  good 

-'  *-"  Efi;oyment  of 

of  it  J  the  Present 

2  Give  a  portion  to  seven,  and  even  to 

Ch.  xi.,  vv.  1-8. 

eight, 
For   thou    knowest    not  what    calamity  may   come 
upon  the  earth. 

3  When  the  clouds  are  full  of  rain, 
They  empty  it  upon  the  earth  ; 

And  when  the  tree  falleth,  toward  south  or  north, 
In  the  place  where  the  tree  falleth  there  will  it  lie. 

4  Whoso  watcheth  the  wind  shall  not  sow, 

And  he  who  observeth  the  clouds  shall  not  reap ; 

5  As  thou  knowest  the  course  of  the  wind 

As  little  as  that  of  the  embryo  in  the  womb  of  the 

pregnant, 
So  thou  knowest  not  the  work  of  God, 

and  oppressed  subjects.  It  is  significant  of  the  caution  induced 
by  the  extreme  tyranny  of  the  time,  that  the  whole  description  of 
its  pohtical  condition  is  conveyed  in  proverbs  more  enigmatical 
than  usual,  and  capable  of  being  interpreted  in  more  senses  than 
one. 


io6  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

Who  worketh  all  things. 

6  Sow,  then,  thy  seed  in  the  morning, 
And  slack  not  thy  hand  in  the  evening. 

Since  thou  knowest  not  which  shall  prosper,  this  or 

that, 
Or  whether  both  shall  prove  good  : 

7  And  the  light  shall  be  sweet  to  thee, 

And  it  shall  be  pleasant  to  thine  eyes  to  behold  the 
sun :  ' 

8  For  even  if  a  man  should  live  many  years, 
He  ought  to  rejoice  in  them  all. 

And  to  remember  that  there  will  be  many  dark  days  ; 
Yea,  that  all  that  cometh  is  vanity. 

9  Rejoice,  O  young  man,  in  thy  youth,        Combined  loith 
And  let   thy  heart  cheer  thee  in  the        „  .,,  .   ,, 

-'  pail/i  m  the 

days  of  thy  youth ;  Life  to  come. 

And  pursue  the  ways  of  thine  heart,  ^^^-  ^'•'  ^-  9" 

Ch.  xii.,  V.  7. 

And  that  which  thine  eyes  desire  ; 
And  know  that  for  all  these 
God  will  bring  thee  into  judgment : 
10  Banish,  therefore,  care  from  thy  mind. 
And  put  away  sadness  from  thy  flesh, 
For  youth  and  manhood  are  vanity. 
And   remember  thy  Creator   in    the   clays   of  thy 
youth,  xii. 

Before  the  evil  days  come. 


TRANSLATION.  107 


And  the  years  approach  of  which  thou  shalt  say, 
"  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them  ;  " 

2  Before  the  sun  groweth  dark, 

And  the  Hght,  and  the  moon,  and  the  stars ; 
And  the  clouds  return  after  the  rain : 

3  When  the  keepers  of  the  house  shall  quake, 
And  the  men  of  power  crouch  down ; 

When   the    grinding-maids    shall   stop    because    so 

few  are  left. 
And  the  women  who  look  out  of  the  lattices  shall 

be  shrouded  in  darkness. 
And  the  door  shall  be  closed  on  the  street : 

4  When  the  sound  of  the  mills  shall  cease, 
And  the  swallow  fly  shrieking  to  and  fro, 

And  all  the  song-birds  drop  silently  into  their  nests, 

5  There  shall  be  terror  at  that  which  cometh  from  the 

height, 

Ver.  3.  The  wojncn  who  look  out  of  the  lattices ;  i.e.  the 
luxurious  ladies  of  the  harem  looking  through  their  windows  to 
see  what  is  going  on  outside.  Compare  Judges  v.  28;  2  Samuel 
vi.  16  ;  and  2  Kings  ix.  30. 

Ver.  4.  The  swallow,  etc.  Literally,  "  the  bird  shall  arise 
for  a  noise,"  i.e.  the  bird  which  flies  abroad  and  makes  a  noise 
at  the  approach  of  a  tempest :  viz.  the  swallow.  All  the  song- 
birds. Literally,  "  all  the  daughters  of  song,"  a  Hebraism  for 
birds. 

Ver.  5.  Fro7!i  the  height,  i.e.  from  heaven.  The  locust  be 
loathed.  It  is  commonly  assumed  that  the  locust  was  only  eaten 
by  the  poor ;  but  Aristotle  {Hist.  Anim ,  v.  30)  names  them  as  a 


io8  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

And  fear  shall  beset  the  highway : 

The  almond  also  shall  be  rejected, 

And  the  locust  be  loathed, 

And  the  caper-berry  provoke  no  appetite ; 

Because  man  goeth  to  his  long  home, 

And  the  mourners  pace  up  and  down  the  street ; — 

6  Before  the  silver  cord  snappeth  asunder, 
And  the  golden  bowl  escapeth  ; 

Before  the  pitcher  be  shattered  at  the  fountain, 
And  the  wheel  is  broken  at  the  well ; 

7  And  the  body  is  cast  into  the  earth  from  which  it 

came, 
And  the  spirit  returneth  to  God  who  gave  it. 

delicacy,  and  Ginsburg  affirms  that  they  are  still  considered 
so  by  the  cultivated  and  well-to-do  Arabs.  His  long  Jiomc. 
Literally,  "  his  eternal  home,"  the  domus  seterna  of  the  early 
Christian  tombs. 


THE   EPILOGUE. 

IN  WHICH  THE  PROBLEM  OF  THE  BOOK  IS 
CONCLUSIVELY  SOLVED. 

Chap.  XII.,  w.  8-14. 

8  Vanity  of  vanities,  saith  the  Preacher, 
All  is  vanity ! 

9  And  not  only  was  the  Preacher  a  wise  man  ; 
He  also  taught  the  people  wisdom, 

And    compared,    collected,    and    arranged    many 
proverbs. 

10  The  Preacher  sought  out  words  of  comfort. 
And  wrote  down  in  uprightness  words  of  truth. 

1 1  The  words  of  the  Wise  are  like  goads, 

And  those  of  the  Masters  of  the  Assemblies  like 

spikes  driven  home. 
Given  out  by  the  same  Shepherd. 

12  And    of    what    is    more    than    these,    my    son, 

beware ; 
For  of  making  of  many  books  there  is  no  end, 
And  much  study  is  a  weariness  to  the  flesh. 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


1 3  The  conclusion  of  the  matter  is  this  ; — 
That  God  taketh  cognisance  of  all  things  : 

Fear  Him,  therefore,  and  keep  his  commandments, 
For  this  it  behoveth  every  man  to  do, 

14  Since  God  will  bring  every  deed  to  the  judgment 
Appointed  for  every  secret  thing. 

Whether  it  be  good  or  whether  it  be  bad. 

Ver.  13.  God  taketh  cognisance  0/  all  things.  Literally, 
"  Everything  is  noted "  or  "  heard,"  i.e.  by  God  the  Judge. 
Ginsburg  conjectures,  not  without  reason,  as  I  think,  that  the 
Sacred  Name  was  omitted  from  this  clause  of  the  verse  simply 
because  the  Author  wished  to  reserve  it  for  the  more  emphatic 
clause  which  follows  it.  Many  good  scholars,  however,  read  the 
clause  as  meaning  simply,  "  The  conclusion  of  the  matter,  when 
all  has  been  heard"  i.e.  which  even  the  Sages  can  adduce. 


EXPOSITION 


THE   PROLOGUE. 

IN  WHICH  THE  PROBLEM  OF  THE  BOOK  IS 
INDIRECTLY  STATED. 

Chap.  I.,  vv.  i-il. 

'T'^HE  search  for  the  suminum  bonuni,  the  quest  of 
-*-  the  Chief  Good,  is  the  theme  of  the  Book 
Ecclesiastes.  Naturally  we  look  to  find  this  theme, 
this  problem,  this  "  riddle  of  the  painful  earth,"  dis- 
tinctly stated  in  the  opening  verses  of  the  Book.  It  is 
stated,  but  not  distinctly.  For  the  Book  is  an  autobio- 
graphical poem,  the  journal  of  the  Preacher's  inward 
life  set  forth  in  a  dramatic  form.  "  A  man  of  ripe 
wisdom  and  mature  experience,  he  takes  us  into  his 
confidence.  He  unclasps  the  secret  volume,  and  invites 
us  to  read  it  with  him.  He  lays  before  us  what  he  has 
been,  what  he  has  thought  and  done,  what  he  has  seen 
and  felt  and  suffered  ;  and  then  he  asks  us  to  listen 
to  the  judgment  which  he  has  deliberately  formed  on  a 
review  of  the  whole."  ^  But  that  he  may  the  more 
unreservedly  lay  bare   his   heart    to   us,  he  uses  the 

'  Dean  Perowue,  in  The  Expositor,  First  Series,  vol.  ix. 


114  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

Poet's  privilege,  and  presents  himself  to  us  under  a 
mask  and  wrapped  in  Solomon's  ample  mantle.  And 
a  dramatic  poet  conveys  his  conceptions  of  human 
character  and  circumstance  and  action,  not  by  direct 
picturesque  descriptions,  but,  placing  men  before  us 
"  in  their  habit  as  they  lived,"  he  makes  them  speak 
to  us,  and  leaves  us  to  infer  their  character  and 
condition  from  their  words. 

In  accordance  with  the  rules  of  his  art,  the  dramatic 
Preacher  brings  himself  on  the  stage  of  his  poem,  per- 
mits us  to  hear  his  most  penetrating  and  characteristic 
utterances,  confesses  his  own  most  secret  and  inward 
experiences,  and  thus  enables  us  to  conceive  and  to 
judge  him.  He  is  true  to  his  artistic  canons  from  the 
outset.  His  prologue,  unlike  that  of  the  Book  of  Job, 
is  cast  in  the  dramatic  form.  Instead  of  giving  us  a 
clear  statement  of  the  moral  problem  he  is  about  to 
discuss,  he  opens  with  the  characteristic  utterances  of 
the  man  who,  wearied  with  many  futile  endeavours, 
gathers  up  his  remaining  strength  to  recount  the 
experiments  he  has  tried  and  the  conclusion  he  has 
reached.  Like  Browning,  one  of  the  most  dramatic 
of  modern  poets,  he  plunges  abruptly  into  his  theme, 
and  speaks  to  us  from  the  first  through  "  feigned  lips." 
Just  as  in  reading  the  Soliloquy  of  the  Spanish  Cloister, 
or  the  Epistle  of  Karshis/i,  the  Arab  Physician,  or  a 
score    other  of   Browning's    poems,   we   have    first    to 


THE  PROLOGUE.  115 


glance  through  it  in  order  to  collect  the  scattered  hints 
which  indicate  the  speaker  and  the  time,  and  then 
laboriously  to  think  ourselves  back,  by  their  help,  into 
the  time  and  conditions  of  the  speaker,  so  also  with 
this  Hebrew  poem.  It  opens  abruptly  with  "  words 
of  the  Preacher,"  who  is  at  once  the  author  and  the 
hero  of  the  drama.  "  Who  is  he,"  we  ask,  "  and 
what?"  "When  did  he  live,  and  what  place  did  he 
fill  ?  "  And  at  present  we  can  only  reply.  He  is  the 
voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness  of  Oriental 
antiquity,  and  saying,  "  Vanity  of  vanities  !  all  is 
vanity  ! "  ^  For  what  intent,  then,  does  his  voice  break 
the  long  silence  ?  Of  what  ethical  mood  is  this  pathetic 
note  the  expression  ?  What  prompts  his  despairing  cry? 
It  is  the  old  contrast — old  as  literature,  old  as  man 
— between  the  ordered  steadfastness  of  nature  and 
the  disorder  and  brevity  of  human  life.  The  Preacher 
gazes  on  the  universe  above  and  around  him.  The 
ancient  earth  is  firm  and  strong  beneath  his  feet.  The 
sun  runs  his  race  with  joy,  sinks  exhausted  into  its 
ocean  bed,  but  rises  on  the  morrow,  like  a  giant 
refreshed  with  old  wine,  to  renew  its  course.  The 
variable  and  inconstant  wind,  which  bloweth  where  it 
listeth,  blows  from  the  same  quarters,  runs  through 
the  very  circuit  which  was  its  haunt  in  the  time  of  the 

*   Compare  Horace  {^Od.  iv.  7,  9)  :  Piilvis  ct  umbra  sujiins. 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


world's  grey  fathers.  The  streams  which  ebb  and 
flow,  which  go  and  come,  run  along  time-worn  beds 
and  are  fed  from  their  ancient  source.  But  man, 
"  to  one  point  constant  never,"  shifts  from  change 
to  change.  As  compared  with  the  calm  uniformity 
of  nature,  his  life  is  a  mere  phantasy,  passing  for 
ever  through  a  tedious  and  limited  range  of  forms, 
each  of  which  is  as  unsubstantial  as  the  fabric  of 
a  vision,  many  of  which  are  as  base  and  sordid  as 
they  are  unreal,  and  all  of  which,  for  ever  in  a  flux, 
elude  the  grasp  of  those  who  pursue  them,  or  dis- 
appoint those  who  hold  them  in  their  hands.  "  All 
is  vanity ;  for  man  has  no  profit,"  no  adequate  and 
enduring  reward,  "  for  all  his  labour ; "  literally, 
"  no  balance,  no  surplus,  on  the  balance-sheet  of 
life :  "  less  happy,  because  less  stable,  than  the  earth 
on  which  he  dwells,  he  comes  and  goes,  while  the 
earth  goes  on  for  ever  (vv.  2-4). 

This  painful  contrast  between  the  ordered  stability 
of  nature  and  the  changeful  and  profitless  disorder 
of  human  life  is  emphasized  by  a  detailed  reference 
to  the  large  natural  forces  which  rule  the  world,  and 
which  abide  unchanged,  although  to  us  they  seem 
the  very  types  of  change.  The  figure  of  ver.  5  is, 
of  course,  that  of  the  racer.  The  sun  rises  every 
morning  to  run  its  course,  pursues  it  through  the  day, 
"  pants,"  as  one  well-nigh  breathless,  toward  its  goal, 


THE   PROLOGUE.  117 


and   sinks  at  night  into  its   subterraneous  bed  in    the 

sea ;  but,   though  exhausted  and   breathless  at   night, 

it  rises  on  the  morrow   refreshed,   and    eager,  hke  a 

strong,  swift  man,  to  renew  its  daily  race.     In  ver.  6 

the  wind  is  represented  as  having  a  regular  law  and 

circuit,    though  it  now  blows  South,   and    now    veers 

round    to    the   North.     The    East    and    West   are   not 

mentioned,  probably  because  they  are  tacitly  referred 

to  in  the  rising  and  setting  sun  of  the  previous  verse  : 

all    the  four    quarters  are   included   between   the  two. 

In  ver.   7   the  streams  are  described  as   returning  on 

their    sources ;  but    there   is  no    allusion  here,    as   we 

might  suppose,  to  the  tides, — and  indeed  tidal  rivers 

are  comparatively  rare, — or   to  the  rain  which   brings 

back  the   water  evaporated  from   the   surface    of  the 

streams  and  of  the  sea.     The  reference  is,  rather,  to 

an  ancient  conception  of  the  physical  order  of  nature 

held  by   the  Hebrew  as  by  other  races,   according  to 

which  the   ocean,    fed    by    the    streams,    sent    back   a 

constant  supply  through  subterraneous  passages    and 

channels,  in    which   the    salt    was    filtered   out    of   it ; 

through    these   they  supposed  the  rivers  to   return  to 

the  place  whence   they    came.     The  ruling    sentiment 

of  these  verses  is  that,  while  all  the  natural  elements 

and    forces,    even    the    most    variable    and   inconstant, 

renew  their    strength    and    return    upon    their  course, 

for    frail    man    there    is   no    return ;    permanence    asd 


ii8  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


uniformity  characterise  them,  while  transitoriness  and 
instability  mark  Jiim  for  their  own.  They  seem  to 
vanish  and  disappear ;  the  sun  sinks,  the  winds  lull, 
the  streams  run  dry ;  but  they  all  come  back  again  : 
for  him  there  is  no  coming  back ;  once  gone,  he  is 
gone  for  ever. 

But  it  is  vain  to  talk  of  these  or  other  instances 
of  the  weary  yet  restless  activity  of  the  universe ; 
"  man  cannot  utter  it."  For,  besides  these  elemental 
illustrations,  the  world  is  crowded  with  illustrations 
of  incessant  change,  which  yet  move  within  narrow 
bounds  and  do  nothing  to  relieve  its  sameliness. 
So  numerous  are  they,  so  innumerable,  that  the 
curious  eye  and  inquisitive  ear  of  man  would  be 
worn  out  before  they  had  completed  the  tale  of  them  : 
and  if  eye  and  ear  could  never  be  satisfied  with 
hearing  and  seeing,  how  much  less  the  slower  tongue 
with  speaking  (ver.  8)  ?  All  through  the  universe 
what  hath  been  still  is  and  will  be ;  what  was  done 
is  done  still  and  always  will  be  done  ;  the  sun  still 
running  the  same  race,  the  winds  still  blowing  from 
the  same  points,  the  streams  still  flowing  between 
the  same  banks  and  returning  by  the  same  channels. 
If  any  man  suppose  that  he  has  discovered  new 
phenomena,  any  natural  fact  which  has  not  been 
repeating  itself  from  the  beginning,  it  is  only  because 
he   is  ignorant  of  that    which    has   been   from    of  old 


THE  PROLOGUE.  119 


(vv.  9,  10)/  Yet,  while  in  nature  all  things  return 
on  their  course  and  abide  for  ever,  man's  day  is  soon 
spent,  his  force  soon  exhausted.  He  does  not  return ; 
nay,  he  is  not  so  much  as  remembered  by  those  who 
come  after  him.  Just  as  we  have  forgotten  those 
who  were  before  us,  so  those  who  live  after  us  will 
forget  us  (ver.  11).  The  burden  of  all  this  un- 
intelligible world  lies  heavily  on  the  Preacher's  soul. 
He  is  weary  of  the  world's  "  everlasting  sameness." 
The  miseries  and  confusions  of  the  human  lot  baffle 
and  oppress  his  thoughts.  Above  all,  the  contrast 
between  Nature  and  Man,  between  its  massive  and 
stately  permanence  and  the  frailty  and  brevity  of  our 
existence,  breeds  in  him  the  despairing  mood  of  which 
we  .have  the  keynote  in  his  cry,  "  Vanity  of  vanities, 
vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity  ! " 

Yet  this  is  not  the  only,  not  the  inevitable,  mood  of 
the  mind  as  it  ponders  that  great  contrast.  We  have 
learned  to  look  upon  it  with  other,  perhaps  with  wider, 
eyes.  We  say.  How  grand,  how  soothing,  how  hopeful 
is  the  spectacle  of  nature's  uniformity  !  How  it  lifts 
us  above  the  fluctuations  of  inward  thought,  and 
gladdens  us  with  a  sense  of  stability  and  repose  !  As 
we    see    the  ancient   inviolable  laws  working  out  into 

'  So  Marcus  Anxelins  {MeditL,  xi.  i):  "  They  that  come  after 
us  will  see  nothing  new ;  and  they  who  went  before  saw  nothing 
more  than  we  have  seen." 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


the  same  gracious  and  beautiful  results  day  after  day 
and  year  by  year,  and  reflect  that  "  what  has  been  will 
be,"  we  are  redeemed  from  our  bondage  to  vanity  and 
corruption  ;  we  look  up  with  composed  and  reverent 
trust  to  Him  who  is  our  God  and  Father,  and  onward 
to  the  stable  and  glorious  immortality  we  are  to  spend 
with  Him  ;  we  argue  with  Habakkuk  (chap.  i.  ver.  12), 
"  Art  not  Thou  from  everlasting,  O  Lord  our  God,  our 
Holy  One  ?      We  shall  not  die,"  but  live. 

But  if  we  did  not  know  the  Ruler  of  the  universe  to 
be  our  God  and  Father ;  if  our  thoughts  had  still  to 
"jump  the  life  to  come"  or  to  leap  at  it  with  a  mere 
guess  ;  if  we  had  to  cross  the  gulf  of  death  on  no  more 
solid  bridge  than  a  Peradventure  ;  if,  in  short,  our  life 
were  infinitely  more  troubled  and  uncertain  than  it  is, 
and  the  true  good  of  life  and  its  bright  sustaining  hope 
were  still  to  seek,  how  would  it  be  with  us  then  ? 
Then,  like  the  Preacher,  we  might  feel  the  steadfastness 
and  uniformity  of  nature  as  an  affront  to  our  vanity 
and  weakness.  In  place  of  drinking  in  hope  and  com- 
posure from  the  fair  visage  and  unbroken  order  of  the 
universe,  we  might  deem  its  face  to  be  darkened  with 
a  frown  or  its  eye  to  be  glancing  on  us  with  bitter  irony. 
Instead  of  finding  in  its  inevitable  order  and  permanence 
a  hopeful  prophecy  of  otir  recovery  into  an  unbroken 
order  and  an  enduring  peace,  we  might  passionately 
demand  why,  on  an   abiding  earth  and  under  an  un- 


THE  PROLOGUE. 


changing  heaven,  we  should  die  and  be  forgotten  ;  why, 
more  inconstant  than  the  variable  wind,  more  evanescent 
than  the  parching  stream,  one  generation  should  go 
never  to  return,  and  another  generation  come  to  enjoy 
the  gains  of  those  who  were  before  them,  and  to  blot 
their  memory  from  the  earth. 

This,  indeed,  Jias  been  the  impassioned  protest  and 
outcry  of  every  age.  Literature  is  full  of  it.  The 
contrast'  between  the  tranquil  unchanging  sky,  with  its 
myriads  of  pure  lustrous  stars,  which  are  always  there 
and  always  in  a  happy  concert,  and  the  frailty  of  man 
rushing  blindly  through  his  brief  and  perturbed  course 
has  lent  its  ground-tones  to  the  poetry  of  every  race. 
We  meet  it  everywhere.  It  is  the  oldest  of  old  songs. 
In  all  the  many  languages  of  the  divided  earth  we  hear 
how  the  generations  of  men  pass  swifty  and  stormfully 
across  its  bosom,  "  searching  the  serene  heavens  with 
the  inquest  of  their  beseeching  looks,"  but  winning  no 
response ;  asking  always,  and  always  in  vain,  "  Why 
are  we  thus  ?  why  are  we  thus  ?  frail  as  the  moth,  and 
of  few  days  like  the  flower  ? "  It  is  this  contrast 
between  the  serenity  and  the  stability  of  nature  and  the 
frailty  and  turbulence  of  man  which  afQicts  Coheleth 
and  drives  him  to  conclusions  of  despair.  Here  is 
man,  "so  noble  in  reason,  so  infinite  in  faculty,  in 
apprehension  so  like  a  god,"  longing  with  an  ardent 
intensity  for  the  peace  which  results  from  the  equipoise 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


and  happy  occupation  of  his  various  powers  ;  and  yet 
his  whole  Hfe  is  wasted  in  labours  and  tumults,  in  per- 
plexity and  strife  ;  he  goes  to  his  grave  with  his  cravings 
unsatisfied,  his  powers  untrained,  unharmonised, 
knowing  no  rest  till  he  lies  in  the  narrow  bed  from 
which  is  no  uprising !  What  wonder  if  to  such  an  one 
as  he  "  this  goodly  frame,  the  earth,  seems  but  a 
sterile  promontory"  stretching  out  a  little  space  into  the 
dark,  infinite  void  ;  "  this  most  excellent  canopy,  the  air 
.  .  .  this  brave  o'erhanging  firmament,  this  majestical 
roof  fretted  with  golden  fire,"  nothing  but  "  a  foul, 
pestilential  congregation  of  vapours  "  ?  What  wonder 
if,  for  him,  the  very  beauty  of  nature  should  turn  into 
a  repulsive  hideousness,  and  its  steadfast,  unchanging 
order  be  held  a  satire  on  the  disorder  and  vanity  of 
his  life  ? 

Solomon,  moreover, — and  Solomon  in  his  premature 
old  age,  sated  and  weary,  is  the  mask  under  which  the 
Preacher  conceals  his  natural  face, — had  had  a  large 
experience  of  life,  had  tried  its  ambitions,  its  lusts,  its 
pursuits  and  pleasures ;  he  had  tested  every  promise 
of  good  which  it  held  forth,  and  found  them  all  illusory  ; 
he  had  drunk  of  every  stream,  and  found  no  pure  living 
water  with  which  he  could  slake  his  thirst.  And  men 
such  as  he,  sated  but  not  satisfied,  jaded  with  voluptuous 
delights  and  without  the  peace  of  faith,  commonly  look 
out  on  the  world  with  haggard  eyes.     They  feed  their 


THE  PROLOGUE.  123 


despair  on  the  natural  order  and  purity  which  they  feel 
to  be  a  rebuke  to  the  impurity  of  their  own  restless  and 
perturbed  hearts.  Many  of  us  have,  no  doubt,  stood 
on  Richmond  Hill,  and  looked  with  softening  eyes  on 
the  rich  pastures  dotted  with  cattle,  and  broken  with 
clumps  of  trees  through  which  shoot  up  village  spires, 
while  the  full,  placid  Thames  winds  in  many  a  curve 
through  pasture  and  wood.  It  is  not  a  grand  or  romantic 
scene  ;  but  on  a  quiet  evening,  in  the  long  level  rays 
of  the  setting  sun,  it  is  a  scene  to  inspire  content  and 
thankful,  peaceful  thoughts.  Wilberforce  tells  us  that 
he  once  stood  in  the  balcony  of  a  villa  looking  down 
on  this  scene.  Beside  him  stood  the  owner  of  the 
villa,  a  duke  notorious  for  his  profligacy  in  a  profligate 
age  ;  and  as  they  looked  across  the  stream,  the  duke 
cried  out,  "  O  that  river !  there  it  runs,  on  and  on,  and 
I  so  weary  of  it ! "  And  there  you  have  the  very 
mood  of  this  Prologue  ;  the  mood  for  which  the  fair, 
smiling  heavens  and  the  gracious,  bountiful  earth  carry 
no  benediction  of  peace,  because  they  are  reflected  from 
a  heart  all  tossed  into  crossing  and  impure  waves. 

All  things  depend  on  the  heart  we  bring  to  them. 
This  very  contrast  between  Nature  and  Man  has  no 
despair  in  it,  breeds  no  dispeace  or  anger  in  the  heart 
at  leisure  from  itself  and  at  peace  with  God.  Tennyson, 
for  instance,  makes  a  merry  musical  brook  sing  to  us 
on  this  very  theme. 


124  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

"  I  come  from  haunts  of  coot  and  hern, 
I  make  a  sudden  sally 
And  sparkle  out  among  the  fern, 
To  bicker  down  a  valley. 

"  I  chatter  over  stony  ways 
In  little  sharps  and  trebles, 
I  bubble  into  eddying  bays, 
I  babble  on  the  pebbles. 

"  I  chatter,  chatter  as  I  flow 
To  join  the  brimming  river  ; 
For  men  may  come  and  7nen  may  go, 
But  I  go  on  for  ever. 

"  I  steal  by  lawns  and  grassy  plots, 
I  slide  by  hazel  covers  ; 
I  move  the  sweet  forget-me-nots 
That  grow  for  happy  lovers. 

"  I  slip,  I  slide,  I  gloom,  I  glance 
Among  my  skimming  swallows  ; 
I  make  the  netted  sunbeams  dance 
Against  my  sanded  shallows. 

"  I  murmur  under  moon  and  stars 
In  brambly  wildernesses ; 
I  linger  by  my  shingly  bars  ; 
I  loiter  round  my  cresses. 

"  And  out  again  I  curve  and  flow 
To  join  the  brimming  river  ; 
For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go 
Biit  I  go  on  for  ever." 

It  is  the  very  plaint  of  the  Preacher  set  to  sweet  music. 
He   murmurs,  "  One  generation  passeth,  and  another 


THE  PROLOGUE.  125 


generation  cometh,  but  the  earth  abideth  for  ever ; " 
while  the  refrain  of  the  Brook  is, — 

"  For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go, 
But  I  go  on  for  ever." 

Yet  we  do  not  feel  that  the  Song  of  the  Brook  should 
feed  any  mood  of  grief  and  despair.  The  tune  that  it 
sings  to  the  sleeping  woods  all  night  is  "a  cheerful 
tune."  By  some  subtle  process  we  are  made  to  share 
its  bright,  tender  hilarity,  though  we  too  are  of  the  men 
that  come  and  go.  Into  what  a  fume  would  the  Hebrew 
Preacher  have  been  thrown  had  any  little  "  babbling 
brook  "  dared  to  sing  this  saucy  song  to  him.  He  would 
have  felt  it  as  an  insult,  and  have  assumed  that  the 
merry,  innocent  creature  was  "  crowing  "  over  the  swiftly 
passing  generations  of  men.  But,  for  the  Christian 
Poet,  the  Brook  sings  a  song  whose  blithe  dulcet  strain 
attunes  the  heart  to  the  quiet  harmonies  of  peace  and 
good-will. 

Again  I  say  all  depends  on  the  heart  we  turn  to 
nature.  It  was  because  his  heart  was  heavy  with  the 
memory  of  many  sins  and  many  failures,  because  too 
the  lofty  Christian  hopes  were  beyond  his  reach,  that 
this  "  son  of  David  "  grew  mournful  and  bitter  in  her 
presence. 

This,  then,  is  the  mood  in  which  the  Preacher  com- 
mences his  quest  of  the  Chief  Good.     He  is  driven  to 


126  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

it  by  the  need  of  finding  that  in  which  he  can  rest.  As 
a  rule,  it  is  only  on  the  most  stringent  compulsions 
that  we  any  of  us  undertake  this  high  Quest.  Of  their 
profound  need  of  a  Chief  Good  most  men  are  but 
seldom  and  faintly  conscious ;  but  to  the  favoured  few, 
who  are  to  lead  and  mould  the  public  thought,  it  comes 
with  a  force  they  cannot  resist.  It  was  thus  with 
Coheleth.  He  could  not  endure  to  think  that  those 
who  have  "all  things  put  under  their  feet"  should  lie 
at  the  mercy  of  accidents  from  which  their  realm 
is  exempt ;  that  they  should  be  the  mere  fools  of  change, 
while  that  abides  unchanged  for  ever.  And,  therefore, 
he  set  out  to  discover  the  conditions  on  which  they 
might  become  partakers  of  the  order  and  stability  and 
peace  of  nature ;  the  conditions  on  which,  raised  above 
all  the  tides  and  storms  of  change,  they  might  sit  calm 
and  serene  even  though  the  heavens  should  be  folded 
as  a  scroll  and  the  earth  be  shaken  from  its  foundations. 
This,  and  only  this,  will  he  recognise  as  the  Chief 
Good,  tlie  Good  appropriate  to  the  nature  of  man, 
because  capable  of  satisfying  all  his  cravings  and 
supplying  all  his  wants. 


FIRST    SECTION. 

THE   QUEST  OF    THE    CHIEF    GOOD   IN  WISDOM 
AND  IN  PLEASURE. 

Chap.  I.,  Ver.  12,  to  Chap.  II.,  Ver.  26. 

/^APPRESSED  by  his  profound  sense  of  the  vanity 
^-^  of  the  hfe  which  man  Hves  amid  the  play  of  per- 
manent natural  forces,  Coheleth  sets  out  on  the  search 
for  that  true  and  supreme  Good  which  it  will  be  well 
for  the  sons  of  men  to  pursue  through  their  brief  day ; 
the  good  which  will  sustain  them  under  all  their  toils, 
and  be  "  a  portion  "  so  large  and  enduring  as  to  satisfy 
even  their  vast  desires. 

I.  And,  as  was  natural  in  so  wise  a  man,  he  turns 
first  to  Wisdom.    He  gives  himself  diligently  to  inquire 
into  all  the  actions  and  toils  of  men.     He       jy^^  q^^^^^  -^^ 
will  ascertain  whether  a  larger  acquain-  wisdom. 

tance  with  their  conditions,  a  deeper  i-i-,vv.i2-i  . 
insight  into  the  facts,  a  more  just  and  complete  estimate 
of  their  lot,  will  remove  the  depression  which  weighs 
upon  his  heart.  He  devotes  himself  earnestly  to  this 
Quest,  and  acquires  a  "greater  wisdom  than  all  who 
were  before  him." 


128  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

This  wisdom,  however,  is  not  a  scientific  knowledge 
of  facts  or  of  social  and  political  laws,  nor  is  it  the 
result  of  philosophical  speculations  on  "  the  first  good  or 
the  first  fair,"  or  on  the  nature  and  constitution  of  man. 
It  is  the  wisdom  that  is  born  of  wide  and  varied  experi- 
ence, not  of  abstract  study.  He  acquaints  himself  with 
the  facts  of  human  life,  with  the  circumstances,  thoughts, 
feelings,  hopes,  and  aims  of  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  men.  He  is  fain  to  know  "all  that  men  do  under 
the  sun,"  "  all  that  is  done  under  heaven."  Like  the 
Arabian  Caliph,  "  the  good  Haroun  Alraschid,"  we 
may  suppose  that  Coheleth  goes  forth  in  disguise  to 
visit  all  quarters  of  the  city  ;  to  talk  with  barbers, 
druggists,  calenders,  porters,  with  merchants  and 
mariners,  husbandmen  and  tradesmen,  mechanics  and 
artizans  ;  to  try  conclusions  with  travellers  and  with  the 
blunt  wits  of  home-keeping  men.  He  will  look  with 
his  own  eyes  and  learn  for  himself  what  their  lives  are 
like,  how  they  conceive  of  the  human  lot,  and  what, 
if  any,  are  the  mysteries  which  sadden  and  perplex 
them.  He  will  ascertain  whether  they  have  any  key 
that  will  unlock  his  perplexities,  any  wisdom  that  will 
solve  his  problems  or  help  him  to  bear  his  burden  with 
a  more  cheerful  heart.  Because  his  depression  was  fed 
by  every  fresh  contemplation  of  the  order  of  the 
universe,  he  turns  from  nature  to  "  the  proper  study 
of  mankind." 


FIRST  SECTION.  129 


But  this  also  he  finds  a  heavy  and  disappointing 
task.  After  a  wide  and  dispassionate  scrutiny,  when 
he  has  "  seen  much  wisdom  and  knowledge,"  he  con- 
cludes that  man  has  no  fair  reward  "  for  all  his  labour 
that  he  laboureth  under  the  sun,"  that  no  wisdom 
avails  to  set  straight  that  which  is  crooked  in  human 
affairs,  or  to  supply  that  which  is  lacking  in  them. 
The  sense  of  vanity  bred  by  his  contemplation  of  the 
stedfast  round  of  nature  only  grows  more  profound 
and  more  painful  as  he  reflects  on  the  numberless  and 
manifold  disorders  which  afflict  humanity.  And  hence, 
before  he  ventures  on  a  new  experiment,  he  makes  a 
pathetic  appeal  to  the  heart  which  he  had  so  earnestly 
applied  to  the  search,  and  in  which  he  had  stored  up 
so  large  and  various  a  knowledge,  and  confesses  that 
"  even  this  is  vexation  of  spirit,"  that  "  in  much  wisdom 
is  much  sadness,"  and  that  "  to  multiply  knowledge  is 
to  multiply  sorrow." 

And  whether  we  consider  the  nature  of  the  case  or 
the  conditions  of  the  time  in  which  this  Book  was 
written,  we  shall  not  be  surprised  at  the  mournful 
conclusion  to  which  he  comes.  For  the  time  was  full 
of  cruel  oppressions  and  wrongs.  Life  was  insecure. 
To  acquire  property  was  to  court  extortion.  The 
Hebrews,  and  even  the  conquering  race  which  ruled 
them,  were  slaves  to  the  caprice  of  satraps  and 
magistrates  whose  days  were  wasted  in  revelry  and  in 

9 


I30  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

the  unbridled  indulgence  of  their  lusts.  And  to  go 
among  the  various  conditions  of  men  groaning  under 
a  despotism  like  that  of  the  Turk,  whose  foot  strikes 
with  barrenness  every  spot  on  which  it  treads  ;  to  see 
all  the  fair  rewards  of  honest  toil  withheld,  the  noble 
degraded  and  the  foolish  exalted,  the  righteous  trodden 
down  by  the  feet  of  the  wicked ;  all  this  was  not  likely 
to  quicken  cheerful  thoughts  in  a  wise  man's  heart  : 
instead  of  solving,  it  could  but  complicate  and  darken 
the  problems  over  which  he  was  already  brooding  in 
despair. 

And,  apart  from  the  special  wrongs  and  oppressions 
of  the  time,  it  is  inevitable  that  the  thoughtful  student 
of  men  and  manners  should  become  a  sadder  as  he 
becomes  a  wiser  man.  To  multiply  knowledge,  at 
least  of  this  kind,  is  to  multiply  sorrow.  We  need  not 
be  cynics  and  leave  our  tub  only  to  reflect  on  the 
dishonesty  of  our  neighbours,  we  need  only  go  through 
the  world  with  open  and  observant  eyes  in  order  to 
learn  that  "  in  much  wisdom  is  much  sadness."  Recall 
the  wisest  of  modern  times,  those  who  have  had  the 
most  intimate  acquaintance  with  man  and  men,  Goethe 
and  Carlyle  for  example ;  are  they  not  all  touched  with 
a  profound  sadness  ?  ^     Do    they  not  look  with  some 

'  Pere  Lacordaire  has  a  fine  passage  on  this  theme.  "  Weak 
and  little  minds  find  here  below  a  nourishment  which  suffices 
fur  tlieir  intellect  and  satisfies  their  love.     They  do  not  discover 


FIRST  SECTION. 


scorn  on  the  common  life  of  the  mass  of  men,  with  its 
base  passions  and  pleasures,  struggles  and  rewards  ? 
and,  in  proportion  as  they  have  the  spirit  of  Christ,  is 
not  their  very  scorn  kindly,  springing  from  a  pity 
which  lies  deeper  than  itself?  Did  not  even  the 
Master  Himself,  though  full  of'(jfuth  and  grace,  share 
their  feeling  as  He  saw  publicans  growing  rich  by 
extortion,  hypocrites  mounting  to  Moses'  chair,  subtle, 
cruel  foxes  couched  on  thrones,  scribes  hiding  the  key 
of  knowledge,  and  the  blind  multitude  following  their 
blind  leaders  into  the  ditch  ? 

Nay,  if  we  look  out  on  the  world  of  to-day,  can  we 
say  that  even  the  majority  of  men  are  wise  and  pure  ? 

the  emptiness  of  visible  things  because  they  are  incapable  of 
sounding  them  to  the  bottom.  But  a  soul  which  God  has  drawn 
nearer  to  the  Infinite  very  soon  feels  the  narrow  limits  within 
which  it  is  pent ;  it  experiences  moments  of  inexpressible  sad- 
ness, the  cause  of  which  for  a  long  time  remains  a  mystery ;  it 
even  seems  as  though  some  strange  concurrence  of  events  must 
have  chanced  in  order  thus  to  disturb  its  life  ;  and  all  the  while 
the  trouble  comes  from  a  higher  source.  In  reading  the  lives  of 
the  Saints,  we  find  that  nearly  all  of  them  have  felt  that  sweet 
melancholy  of  which  the  ancients  said  f/mf  there  was  no  genius 
without  it.  In  fact,  melancholy  is  inseparable  from  every  mind  \ 
that  looks  below  the  surface  and  every  heart  that  feels  profoundly. 
Not  that  we  should  take  complacency  in  it,  for  it  is  a  malady  that 
enervates  when  we  do  not  shake  it  off;  and  it  has  but  two 
remedies — Death  or  God."  Elsewhere,  still  quite  in  the  spirit  of 
the  Preacher,  he  says  :  "  Every  day  I  feel  more  and  more  that 
all  is  vanity.    /  cannot  leave  my  heart  in  this  heap  of  mud." 


132  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

Is  it  always  the  swift  who  win  the  race,  and  the  strong 
who  carry  off  the  honours  of  the  battle  ?  Do  none  of 
our  "  intelligent  lack  bread,"  nor  any  of  the  learned 
favour  ?  Are  there  no  fools  lifted  to  high  places  to 
show  with  how  little  wisdom  the  world  is  governed, 
and  no  brave  and  noble  breasts  dinted  by  the  blows 
of  hostile  circumstances  or  wounded  by  "  the  slings  and 
arrows  of  outrageous  fortune  "  ?  Are  all  our  workmen 
diligent,  and  all  our  masters  fair  ?  Are  no  false 
measures  and  balances  known  in  our  markets,  and  no 
frauds  on  our  exchanges  ?  Are  none  of  our  homes 
dungeons,  with  fathers  and  husbands  for  jailors  ?  Do 
we  never  hear,  as  we  stand  without,  the  sound  of  cruel 
blows  and  the  shrieks  of  tortured  captives  ?  Are  there 
no  hypocrites  in  our  Churches  "  that  with  devotion's 
visage  sugar  o'er  "  a  corrupt  heart  ?  And  do  the  best 
men  always  gain  the  highest  place  and  honour  ?  Are 
there  none  in  our  midst  who  have  to  bear — 

"  The  whips  and  scorns  of  time, 
The  oppressor's  wrong,  the  proud  man's  contumely, 
The  pangs  of  despised  love,  the  law's  delay, 
The  insolence  of  office,  and  the  spurns 
That  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes  "  ? 

Alas,  if  we  think  to  find  the  true  Good  in  a  wide  and 
varied  knowledge  of  the  conditions  of  men,  their  hopes 
and  fears,  their  struggles  and  successes,  their  loves 
and  hates,  their  rights  and  wrongs,  their  pleasures  and 


FIRST  SECTION.  133 


their  pains,  we  shall  but  share  the  defeat  of  the  Preacher, 
and  repeat  his  bitter  cry,  "  Vanity  of  vanities,  vanity 
of  vanities,  all  is  vanity  !  "  For,  as  he  himself  implies  at 
the  very  outset  (ver.  13),  "this  sore  task,''  this  eternal 
quest  of  a  wisdom  which  will  solve  the  problems  and 
remove  the  inequalities  of  human  life,  is  God's  gi/t  to 
the  children  of  men, — this  search  for  a  solution  they 
never  reach.  Age  after  age,  unwarned  by  the  failure 
of  those  who  took  this  road  before  them,  they  renew 
the  hopeless  quest. 

2.  But  if  we  cannot  reach  the  object  of  our  Quest 
in  Wisdom,  we  may,  perchance,  find  it  in  Pleasure. 
This    experiment   also   the  Preacher   has       ™,   ^     ^  • 

'^  The  Quest  in 

tried,  tried  on  the  largest  scale  and  Pleasure. 
under  the  most  auspicious  conditions. 
Wisdom  failing  to  satisfy  the  large  desires  of  his  soul, 
or  even  to  lift  it  from  its  depression,  he  turns  to 
mirth.^  Once  more,  as  he  forthwith  announces,  he  is 
disappointed  in  the  result.  He  pronounces  mirth  a 
brief  madness  ;  in  itself,  like  wisdom,  a  good,  it  is  not 
the  Chief  Good  ;  to  make  it  supreme  is  to  rob  it  of  its 
natural  charm. 

Not  content  with  this  general  verdict,  however,  he 


'  So  Goethe's  Faust,  after  having  failed  to  solve  the  insoluble 
problems  of  life  by  study  and  research,  "plunges  deep  in 
pleasure,"  that  he  "  may  thus  still  the  burning  thirst  of  passionate 
desire." 


134  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

recounts  the  details  of  his  experiment,  that  he  may 
deter  us  from  repeating  it.  Speaking  in  the  person 
of  Solomon  and  utilising  the  facts  of  his  experience, 
Coheleth  claims  to  have  started  in  the  quest  with  the 
greatest  advantages ;  for  "  what  can  he  do  who  cometh 
after  the  king  whom  they  made  king  long  ago  ?  "  He 
surrounded  himself  with  all  the  luxuries  of  an  Oriental 
prince,  not  out  of  any  vulgar  love  of  show  and 
ostentation,  nor  out  of  any  strong  sensual  addictions, 
but  that  he  might  discover  wherein  the  secret  and 
fascination  of  pleasure  lay,  and  what  it  could  do  for  a 
man  who  pursued  it  wisely.  He  built  himself  new, 
costly  palaces,  as  the  Sultan  of  Turkey  used  to  do 
almost  every  year.  He  laid  out  paradises,  planted 
them  with  vines  and  fruit-trees  of  every  sort,  and  large 
shady  groves  to  screen  off  and  attemper  the  heat  of  the 
sun.^  He  dug  great  tanks  and  reservoirs  of  water,  and 
cut  channels  which  carried  the  cool  vital  stream  through 


'  "  One  such  pleasaunce  as  this  there  was  at  Etam,  Solomon's 
Belvedere,  as  Josephus  informs  us  {Aittiq.,  VIII.  7,  3).  Thither 
it  was  the  custom  of  the  king,  he  says,  to  resort  when  he  made 
his  morning  excursions  from  the  city,  clad  in  a  white  garment, 
and  driving  his  chariot,  surrounded  by  his  body-guard  of  young 
men  in  the  flower  of  their  age,  clad  in  Tyrian  purple,  and  with 
gold  dust  strewed  upon  their  hair,  so  that  their  whole  head 
sparkled  when  the  sun  shone  upon  it,  and  moimted  upon  horses 
from  the  royal  stables,  famed  for  their  beauty  and  fleetness." — 
Dr.  Perowne,  The  Expositor,  First  Series,  vol.  x. 


FIRST  SECTION.  135 


the  gardens  and  to  the  roots  of  the  trees.  He  bought 
men  and  maids,  and  surrounded  himself  with  the 
retinue  of  servants  and  slaves  requisite  to  keep  his 
palaces  and  paradises  in  order,  to  serve  his  sumptuous 
tables,  to  swell  his  pomp :  i.e.  he  gathered  together 
such  a  train  of  ministers,  attendants,  domestics,  indoor 
and  outdoor  slaves,  as  is  still  thought  necessary  to  the 
dignity  of  an  Oriental  "lord."  His  herds  of  flocks,  a 
main  source  of  Oriental  wealth,  were  of  finer  strain  and 
larger  in  number  than  had  been  known  before.  He 
amassed  enormous  treasures  of  silver  and  gold,  the 
common  Oriental  hoard.  He  collected  the  peculiar 
treasures  "  of  kings  and  of  the  kingdoms  ;  "  whatever 
special  commodity  was  yielded  by  any  foreign  land  was 
caught  up  for  his  use  by  his  officers  or  presented  to 
him  by  his  allies.^  He  hired  famous  musicians  and 
singers,  and  gave  himself  to  those  delights  of  harmony 
which  have  had  a  peculiar  charm  for  the  Hebrews  of 
all  ages.  He  crowded  his  harem  with  the  beauties 
both  of  his  own  and  of  foreign  lands.  He  withheld 
nothing  from  them  that  his  eyes  desired,  and  kept  not 

^  In  speaking  of  the  Persian  revenue,  Rawlinson  says  that 
besides  a  definite  money  payment,  "  a  payment,  the  nature  and 
amount  of  which  were  also  fixed,  had  to  be  made  in  kind,  each 
province  being  required  to  furnish  that  commodity,  or  those  com- 
modities, for  which  it  was  most  celebrated," — as,  for  example, 
grain,  sheep,  cattle,  mules,  fine  breeds  of  horses,  beautiful  slaves. 
77^1?  Five  Great  Monarchies,  vol.  iv.,  chap,  vii.,  p.  421. 


136  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

his  heart  from  any  pleasure.  He  set  himself  seriously 
and  intelligently  to  make  happiness  his  portion ;  and, 
while  cherishing  or  cheering  his  body  with  pleasures, 
he  did  not  rush  into  them  with  the  blind  eagerness 
"whose  violent  property  foredoes  itself"  and  defeats 
its  own  ends.  His  "  mind  guided  him  wisely "  amid 
his  delights ;  his  "  wisdom  helped  him "  to  select,  and 
combine,  and  vary  them,  to  enhance  and  prolong  their 
sweetness  by  a  certain  art  and  temperance  in  the 
enjoyment  of  them. 

"  He  built  his  soul  a  lordly  pleasure-house, 
Wherein  at  ease  for  aye  to  dwell ; 
He  said,  '  Oh  Soul,  make  merry  and  carouse, 
Dear  Soul,  for  all  is  well ! ' " 

Alas,  all  was  not  well,  though  he  took  much  pains  to 
make  and  think  it  well.  Even  his  choice  delights  soon 
palled  upon  his  taste,  and  brought  on  conclusions  of 
disgust.  Even  in  his  lordly  pleasure-house  he  was 
haunted  by  the  grim,  menacing  spectres  which  troubled 
him  before  it  was  built.  In  the  harem,  in  the  paradise 
he  had  planted,  under  the  groves,  beside  the  fountains, 
at  the  sumptuous  banquet, — a  bursting  bubble,  a  falling 
leaf,  an  empty  wine  cup,  a  passing  blush,  sufficed  to 
bring  back  the  thought  of  the  brevity  and  the  emptiness 
of  life.  When  he  had  run  the  full  career  of  pleasure, 
and  turned  to  contemplate  his  delights  and  the  labour 
they  had  cost  him,  he  found  that  these  also,  were  vanity 


FIRST  SECTION.  137 


and  vexation  of  spirit,  that  there  was  no  "  profit  "  in 
them,  that  they  could  not  satisfy  the  deep,  incessant 
craving  of  the  soul  for  a  true  and  lasting  Good. 

Is  not  his  sad  verdict  as  true  as  it  is  sad  ?  We 
have  not  his  wealth  of  resources.  Nevertheless  there 
may  have  been  a  time  when  our  hearts  were  as  intent 
on  pleasure  as  was  his.  We  may  have  pursued  what- 
ever sensuous,  intellectual,  or  aesthetic  excitements  V 
were  open  to  us  with  a  growing  eagerness  till  we  have 
lived  in  a  whirl  of  craving  and  stimulating  desire  and 
indulgence,  in  which  the  claims  of  duty  have  been 
neglected  and  the  rebukes  of  conscience  unheeded. 
And  if  we  have  passed  through  this  experience,  if  we 
have  been  carried  for  a  time  into  this  giddying  round, 
have  we  not  come  out  of  it  jaded,  exhausted,  despising 
ourselves  for  our  folly,  disgusted  with  what  once 
seemed  the  very  top  and  crown  of  delight  ?  Do  we 
not  mourn,  our  after  life  through,  over  energies  wasted 
and  opportunities  lost  ?  Are  we  not  sadder,  if  wiser, 
men  for  our  brief  frenzy  ?  As  we  return  to  the  sober 
duties  and  simple  joys  of  life,  do  not  zuc  say  to  Mirth, 
"  Thou  art  mad  !  "  and  to  Pleasure,  "  What  canst  thou 
do  for  us  ?  "  Yes,  our  verdict  is  that  of  the  Preacher, 
"  Lo,  this  too  is  vanity  ! "  Non  enim  hilaritate,  nee 
lascivia,  nee  visit,  atit  joeo,  coniite  levitatis,  sedscepe  etiam 
trtstes  firmitate,  etconstantia  sunt  beati} 


'  Cicero,  De  Fin.,  Lib.  II.,  Cap.  20. 


138  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

It  is  characteristic  of  the  philosophic  temper  of  our 
Author,  I  think,  that,  after  pronouncing  Wisdom  and 
Mirth  vanities  in  which  the  true  Good  is  Wisdom  and 
not   to   be   found,  he   does  not   at   once 

'  pared. 

proceed  to  try  a  new  experiment,  but  Ch.ii.,w.  12-23. 
pauses  to  compare  these  two  "  vanities,"  and  to 
reason  out  his  preference  of  one  over  the  other.  His 
vanity  is  wisdom.  For  it  is  only  in  one  respect  that 
he  puts  mirth  and  wisdom  on  an  equality,  viz.  that 
they  neither  of  them  are,  or  lead  up  to,  the  supreme 
Good,  In  all  other  respects  he  affirms  wisdom  to  be 
as  much  better  than  pleasure  as  light  is  better  than 
darkness,  as  much  better  as  it  is  to  have  eyes  that  see 
the  light  than  to  be  blind  and  walk  in  a  constant  gloom 
(vv.  12-14).  It  is  because  wisdom  is  a  light  and 
enables  men  to  see  that  he  accords  it  his  preference. 
It  is  by  the  light  of  wisdom  that  he  has  learned  the 
vanity  of  mirth,  nay,  the  insufficiency  of  wisdom  itself. 
But  for  that  light  he  might  still  be  pursuing  pleasures 
which  could  not  satisfy,  or  laboriously  acquiring  a 
knowledge  which  would  only  deepen  his  sadness. 
Wisdom  had  opened  his  eyes  to  see  that  he  must  seek 
the  Good  which  gives  rest  and  peace  in  other  regions. 
He  no  longer  goes  on  his  Quest  in  utter  blindness,  with 
all  the  world  before  him  where  to  choose,  but  with  no 
indication  of  the  course  he  should,  or  should  not,  take. 
He  has  already  learned  that  two  large   provinces  of 


FIRST  SECTION.  139 


human  life  will  not  yield  him  what  he  seeks,  that  he 
must  expend  no  more  of  his  brief  day  and  failing 
energies  on  these. 

Therefore  wisdom  is  better  than  mirth.  Neverthe- 
less it  is  not  best,  nor  can  it  remove  the  dejections 
of  a  thoughtful  heart.  Somewhere  there  is,  there 
must  be,  that  which  is  better  still.  For  wisdom 
cannot  explain  to  him  why  the  same  fate  should  befall 
both  the  sage  and  the  fool  (ver.  15),  nor  can  it  abate 
the  anger  that  burns  within  him  against  an  injustice 
so  obvious  and  flagrant.  Wisdom  cannot  even  explain 
why,  even  if  the  sage  must  die  no  less  than  the  fool, 
both  must  be  forgotten  wellnigh  as  soon  as  they  are 
gone  (vv.  16,  17);  nor  can  it  soften  the  hatred  of  life 
and  its  labours  which  this  lesser  yet  patent  injustice 
has  kindled  in  his  heart.  Nay,  wisdom,  for  all  so 
brightly  as  it  shines,  throws  no  light  on  an  injustice 
which,  if  of  lower  degree,  frets  and  perplexes  his  mind, 
— why  a  man  who  has  laboured  prudently  and  dexter- 
ously and  has  acquired  great  gains  should,  when  he 
dies,  leave  all  to  one  who  has  not  laboured  therein, 
without  even  the  poor  consolation  of  knowing  whether 
he  will  be  a  wise  man  or  an  idiot  (vv.  19-21),  In 
short,  the  whole  skein  of  life  is  in  a  dismal  tangle  which 
wisdom  itself,  dearly  as  he  loves  it,  cannot  unravel ; 
and  the  tangle  is  that  man  has  no  fair  "  profit "  from 
his  labours,  "since  his  task  grieveth  and  vexeth  him 


I40  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

all  his  days,  and  even  at  night  his  heart  hath  no  rest ; " 
and  when  he  dies  he  loses  all  his  gains,  such  as  they 
are,  for  ever,  and  cannot  so  much  as  be  sure  that 
his  heir  will  be  any  the  better  for  them.  "  This  also 
is  vanity  "  (vv.  22,  23). 

And  yet,  good  things  are  surely  good,  and  there  is 
a  wise  and  gracious  enjoyment  of  earthly  delights. 
It  is  right  that  a  man  should  eat  and  The  Conclusion. 
drink,  and  take  a  natural  pleasure  in  i.ii-,vv.24-2  . 
his  toils  and  gains.  Who,  indeed,  has  a  stronger 
claim  than  the  labourer  himself  to  eat  and  enjoy  the 
fruit  of  his  labours  ?  Still,  even  this  natural  enjoy- 
ment is  the  gift  of  God ;  apart  from  his  blessing 
the  heaviest  toils  will  produce  but  a  scanty  harvest, 
and  the  faculty  of  enjoying  that  harvest  may  be 
lacking.  It  is  lacking  to  the  sinner ;  his  task  is  to 
heap  up  gains  which  the  good  will  inherit.  But  he 
that  is  good  before  God  will  have  the  gains  of  the 
sinner  added  to  his  own,  with  wisdom  to  enjoy  both.^ 
This,  whatever  appearances  may  sometimes  suggest,  is 
the   law  of  God's  giving :    that   the  good    shall    have 

'  This  affirmation,  so  surprising  at  first  sight,  is  also  made  by 
Job  (chap,  xxvii.,  vv.  15,  16),  "This  is  the  doom  of  the  wicked 
man  from  God.  .  .  .  Though  he  heap  up  silver  like  dust,  and 
gather  robes  as  mire,  that  which  he  hath  gathered  shall  the 
righteous  wear,  and  the  innocent  shall  divide  his  silver." 


FIRST  SECTION.  141 


abundance,  while  the  bad  lack ;  that  more  shall  be 
given  to  him  who  has  wisdom  to  use  what  he  has 
aright,  while  from  him  who  is  destitute  of  this  wisdom, 
even  that  which  he  hath  shall  be  taken  away.  Never- 
theless even  this  wise  use  and  enjoyment  of  temporal 
good  does  not  and  cannot  satisfy  the  craving  heart  of 
man  ;  even  this,  when  it  is  made  the  ruling  aim  and 
chief  good  of  life,  is  vexation  of  spirit. 

Thus  the  First  Act  of  the  Drama  closes  with  a 
negative.  The  moral  problem  is  as  far  from  being 
solved  as  at  the  outset.  All  we  have  learned  is  that 
one  or  two  avenues  along  which  we  urge  the  Quest 
will  not  lead  us  to  the  end  we  seek.  As  yet  the 
Preacher  has  only  the  ad  interim  conclusion  to  offer  us, 
that  both  Wisdom  and  Mirth  are  good,  though  neither, 
nor  both  combined,  is  the  supreme  Good  ;  that  we  are 
therefore  to  acquire  wisdom  and  knowledge,  and  to 
blend  pleasure  with  our  toils ;  that  we  are  to  believe 
pleasure  and  wisdom  to  be  the  gifts  of  God,  to  believe 
also  that  they  are  bestowed,  not  in  caprice,  but  ac- 
cording to  a  law  which  deals  out  good  to  the  good  and 
evil  to  the  evil.  We  shall  have  other  opportunities  of 
weighing  and  appraising  his  counsel — -it  is  often  repeated 
— and  cf  seeing  how  it  works  into  and  forms  part  of 
Coheleth's  final  solution  of  the  painful  riddle  of  the 
earth,  the  baffling  mystery  of  life. 


SECOND    SECTION. 

THE   QUEST  OF  THE  CHIEF  GOOD  IN  DEVOTION 
TO   THE  AFFAIRS  OF  BUSINESS. 

Chap.  III.,  Ver.  i,  to  Chap.  V.,  Ver.  20. 

I.  T  F  the  true  Good  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  School 
■*-  where  Wisdom  utters  her  voice,  nor  in  the 
Garden  in  which  Pleasure  spreads  her  lures  :  may  it 
not  be  found  in  the  Market,  in  devotion  to  Business  and 
Public  Affairs  ?  The  Preacher  will  try  this  experiment 
also.  He  gives  himself  to  study  and  consider  it.  But 
at  the  very  outset  he  discovers  that  he  is  in  the 
iron  grip  of  immutable  Divine  ordinances,  by  which 
"  seasons  "  are  •  appointed  for  every  undertaking  under 
heaven  (ver.  i),  ordinances  which  derange  man's  best- 
laid  schemes,  and  "  shape  his  ends,  rough-hew  them 
how  he  will,"  that  no  one  can  do  anything  to  purpose 
"  apart  from  God,"  except  by  conforming  to  the  ordi- 
nances, or  laws,  in  which  He  has  expressed  llis 
will  (comp.  chap,  ii.,  vv.  24-26). 

The  time  of  birth,  for  instance,  and  the  time  of 
death,  are  ordained  by  a  Power  over  which  men 
have  no  control ;  they  begin  to  be,  and  they  cease  to 


SECOND  SECTION.  143 

be,  at  hours  whose  stroke  they  can  neither  hasten  nor 
retard.  The  season  for  sowing  and  the  season  for 
reaping  are  fixed  without  any  reference  to  their  wish ; 
they  must  plant  and  gather  in  when  the  The  Quest  ob- 
unchangeable  laws  of  nature  will  permit        structed  by 

Divine 

(ver.  2),  Even  those  violent  deaths,  and  Ordimmces ; 
those  narrow  escapes  from  death,  which  Ch.iii.,vv.i-i5. 
seem  most  purely  fortuitous,  are  predetermined  ;  as  are 
also  the  accidents  which  befall  our  abodes  (ver.  3).  So, 
again,  if  only  because  determined  by  these  accidents,  are 
the  feelings  with  which  we  regard  them,  our  weeping  and 
our  laughter,  our  mourning  and  our  rejoicing  (ver.  4). 
If  we  only  clear  a  plot  of  ground  from  stones  in  order 
that  we  may  cultivate  it,  or  that  we  may  fence  it  in 
with  a  wall ;  or  if  an  enemy  cast  stones  over  our  arable 
land  to  unfit  it  for  uses  of  husbandry — a  malignant  act 
frequent  in  the  East — and  we  have  painfully  to  gather 
them  out  again  :  even  this,  which  seems  so  purely 
within  the  scope  of  human  free-will,  is  also  within  the 
scope  of  the  Divine  decrees — as  are  the  very  embraces 
we  bestow  on  those  dear  to  us,  or  withhold  from  them 
(ver.  5).  The  varying  and  unstable  desires  which 
prompt  us  to  seek  this  object  or  that  as  earnestly  as 
we  afterwards  carelessly  cast  it  away,  and  the  passions 
which  impel  us  to  rend  our  garments  over  our  losses, 
and  by-and-bye  to  sew  up  the  rents  not  without  some 
little  wonder  that  we  should  ever  have  been  so  deeply 


144  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

moved  by  that  which  now  sits  so  lightly  on  us  ;  these 
passions  and  desires,  which  at  one  time  strike  us  dumb 
with  grief  and  so  soon  after  make  us  voluble  with  joy, 
with  all  our  fleeting  and  easily-moved  hates  and  loves, 
strifes  and  reconciliations,  move  within  the  circle  of 
law,  although  they  wear  so  lawless  a  look,  and  are 
obsequious  to  the  fixed  canons  of  Heaven  (vv.  6-8). 
They  travel  their  cycles  ;  they  return  in  their  appointed 
order.  The  uniformity  of  nature  is  reproduced  in  the 
uniform  recurrence  of  the  chances  and  changes  of  human 
life;  for  in  this,  as  in  that,  God  repeats  Himself,  re- 
calling the  past  (ver.  15).  The  thing  that  is  is  that 
which  hath  been,  and  that  which  will  be.  Social  laws 
are  as  constant  and  as  inflexible  as  natural  laws.  The 
social  generalisations  of  modern  science — as  given,  for 
instance,  in  Buckle's  History — are  but  a  methodical 
elaboration  of  the  conclusion  at  which  the  Preacher 
here  arrives. 

Of  what  use,  then,  was  it  for  men  to  "  kick  against 
the  goads,"  to  attempt  to  modify  immutable  ordi- 
nances ?  "Whatever  God  hath  ordained  continueth 
for  ever;  nothing  can  be  added  to  it,  and  nothing 
can  be  taken  from  it"  (ver.  14).  Nay,  why  should 
we  care  to  alter  or  modify  the  social  order  ?  Every- 
thing is  beautiful  and  appropriate  in  its  season,  from 
birth  to  death,  from  war  to  peace  (ver.  11).  If  we  can- 
not find  the  satisfying  Good  in  the  events  and  affairs 


SECOND  SECTION.  145 


of  life,  that  is  not  because  we  could  devise  a  happieii 
order  for  them,  but  because  "  God  hath  put  eternity  into| 
our  hearts  "  as  well  as  time,  and  did  not  intend  that  we 
should  be  satisfied  till  we  attain  an  eternal  good.  If 
only  we  "  understood "  that,  if  only  we  recognised 
God's  design  for  us  "from  beginning  to  end,"  and 
suffered  eternity  no  less  than  time  to  have  its  due  of 
us,  we  should  not  fret  ourselves  in  vain  endeavours  to 
change  the  unchangeable,  or  to  find  an  enduring  good 
in  that  which  is  fugitive  and  perishable.  We  should 
rejoice  and  do  ourselves  good  all  our  brief  life  (ver.  12)  ; 
we  should  eat  and  drink  and  take  pleasure  in  our 
labours  (ver.  13)  ;  we  should  feel  that  this  faculty  for 
innocently  enjoying  simple  pleasures  and  wholesome 
toils  is  "  a  gift  of  God  :  "  we  should  conclude  that  God  \ 
had  ordained  that  regular  cycle  and  order  of  events 
which  so  often  forestalls  the  wish  and  endeavour  of 
the  moment,  in  order  that  we  should  fear  Him  in  place 
of  relying  on  ourselves  (ver.  14),  and  trust  our  future 
to  Him  who  so  wisely  and  graciously  recalls  the  past. 

But  not  only  are  our  endeavours  to  find  the  "  good  " 
of  our  labours  thwarted  by  the  gracious,  And  by  Human 
inflexible  laws  of  the  just  God  ;  they  are       i"j"stice  and 

Perversity. 

often  baffled  by  the  injustice  of  ungracious      d,  jij    ^  ^g, 
men.     In  the  days  of  Coheleth,  Iniquity        c^.  iv.,  v.  3. 
sat  in  the  seat  of  justice,  wresting  all  rules  of  equity  to 

10 


146  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

its  base  private  ends  (ver.  16).  Unjust  judges  and 
rapacious  satraps  put  the  fair  rewards  of  labour  and 
skill  and  integrity  in  jeopardy,  insomuch  that  if  a  man 
by  industry  and  thrift,  by  a  wise  observance  of  Divine 
laws  and  by  taking  occasions  as  they  rose,  had  acquired 
affluence,  he  was  too  often,  in  the  exptessive  Eastern 
phrase,  but  as  a  sponge  which  any  petty  despot  might 
squeeze.  The  frightful  oppressions  of  the  time  were  a 
heavy  burden  to  the  Hebrew  Preacher.  He  brooded 
over  them,  seeking  for  aids  to  faith  and  comfortable 
words  wherewith  to  solace  the  oppressed.  For  a 
moment  he  thought  he  had  lit  on  the  true  comfort, 
"  Well,  well,"  he  said  within  himself,  "  God  will  judge 
the  righteous  and  the  wicked  ;  for  there  is  a  time  for 
every  thing  and  for  every  deed  with  Him"  (ver.  17). 
Could  he  have  rested  in  this  thought,  it  would  have 
been  "  a  sovereign  balm "  to  him,  or  indeed  to  any 
other  Hebrew  ;  although  to  us,  who  have  learned  to 
desire  the  redemption  rather  than  the  punishment  of 
the  wicked,  their  redemption  through  their  inevitable 
punishments,  the  true  comfort  would  still  have  been 
wanting.  But  he  could  not  rest  in  it,  could  not  hold 
it  fast,  and  confesses  that  he  could  not.  He  lays  his 
heart  bare  before  us.  We  are  permitted  to  trace  the 
fluctuating  thoughts  and  emotions  which  swept  across 
it.  No  sooner  has  he  whispered  to  his  heart  that  God, 
who  is  at  leisure  from  Himself  and  has  endless  time  at 


SECOND  SECTION.  147 


his  command,  will  visit  the  oppressors  and  avenge  the 
oppressed,  than  his  thoughts  take  a  new  turn,  and  he 
adds :  "  And  yet  God  may  have  sifted  the  children  of 
men  only  to  shew  them  that  they  are  no  better  than  the 
beasts"  (ver.  18)  :  this  may  be  his  aim  in  all  the  wrongs 
by  which  they  are  tried.  Repugnant  as  the  thought 
is,  it  nevertheless  fascinates  him  for  the  instant,  and  he 
yields  to  its  wasting  and  degrading  magic.  He  not 
only  fears,  suspects,  thinks  that  man  is  no  better  than 
a  beast ;  he  is  quite  sure  of  it,  and  proceeds  to  argue 
it  out.  His  argument  is  very  sweeping,  very  sombre. 
"A  mere  chance  is  man,  and  the  beast  a  mere  chance." 
Both  spring  from  a  mere  accident,  no  one  can  tell  how, 
and  have  a  blind  hazard  for  a  creator ;  and  "  both  are 
subject  to  the  same  chance,"  or  mischance,  throughout 
their  lives,  all  the  decisions  of  their  intelligence  and 
will  being  overruled  by  the  decrees  of  an  inscrutable 
fate.  Both  perish  under  the  same  power  of  death, 
suffer  the  same  pangs  of  dissolution,  are  taken  at  un- 
awares by  the  same  invisible  yet  resistless  force.  The 
bodies  of  both  spring  from  the  same  dust,  and  moulder 
back  into  dust.  Nay^  "  both  have  the  same  spirit ; " 
and  though  vain  man  sometimes  boasts  that  at  death 
his  spirit  goeth  upward,  while  that  of  the  beast  goeth 
downward,  yet  who  can  proVe  it  ?  For  himself,  and  in 
his  present  mood,  Coheleth  doubts,  and  even  denies  it. 
He  is  absolutely  convinced  that  in  origin  and  life  and 


I4S  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

death,  in  body  and  spirit  and  final  fate,  man  is  as 
the  beast  is,  and  hath  no  advantage  over  the  beast 
(vv.  19-21).  And  therefore  he  falls  back  on  his  old 
conclusion,  though  now  with  a  sadder  heart  than  ever, 
that  man  will  do  wisely,  that,  being  so  blind  and 
having  so  dark  a  prospect,  he  cannot  do  more  wisely 
than  to  take  what  pleasure  and  enjoy  what  good  he 
can  amid  his  labours.  7/"  he  is  a  beast,  as  he  is  a 
beast,  let  him  at  least  learn  of  the  beasts  that  simple, 
tranquil  enjoyment  of  the  good  of  the  passing  moment, 
untroubled  by  any  vexing  presage  of  what  is  to  come, 
in  which  it  must  be  allowed  that  they  are  greater 
proficients  than  he  (ver.  22), 

Thus,  after  rising  in  the  first  fifteen  verses  of 
this  Third  Chapter,  to  an  almost  Christian  height  of 
patience,  and  resignation,  and  holy  trust  in  the  pro- 
vidence of  God,  Coheleth  is  smitten  by  the  injustice 
and  oppressions  of  man  into  the  depths  of  a  pessi- 
mistic materialism. 

But  now  a  new  question  arises.  The  Preacher's 
survey  of  human  life  has  shaken  his  faith  even  in  the 
conclusion  which  he  has  announced  from  the  first,  viz., 
that  there  is  nothing  better  for  a  man  than  a  quiet 
content,  a  busy  cheerfulness,  a  tranquil  enjoyment  of 
the  fruit  of  his  toils.  This  at  least  he  has  supposed  to 
be  possible :  but  is  it  ?     All  the  activities,  industries, 


SECOND  SECTION.  149 


tranquillities  of  life  are  jeopardised,  now  by  the  inflexible 
ordinances  of  Heaven,  and  again  by  the  capricious 
tyranny  of  man.  To  this  tyranny  his  fellow-country- 
men are  now  exposed.  They  groan  under  its  heaviest 
oppressions.  As  he  turns  and  once  more  reflects 
(chap,  iv.,  ver.  i)  on  their  unalleviated  and  unfriended 
misery,  he  doubts. whether  content,  or  even  resignation, 
can  be  expected  of  them.  With  a  tender  sympathy 
that  lingers  on  the  details  of  their  unhappy  lot,  and 
deepens  into  a  passionate  and  despairing  melancholy, 
he  witnesses  their  sufferings  and  "  counts  the  tears  " 
of  the  oppressed.  With  the  emphasis  of  a  Hebrew 
and  an  Oriental,  he  marks  and  emphasises  the  fact  that 
"  they  had  no  comforter,"  that  though  "  their  oppressors 
were  violent,  yet  they  had  no  comforter."  For  through- 
out the  East,  and  among  the  Jews  to  this  day,  the 
manifestation  of  sympathy  with  those  who  suffer  is  far 
more  common  and  ceremonious  than  it  is  with  us. 
Neighbours  and  acquaintances  are  expected  to  pay  long 
visits  of  condolence ;  friends  and  kinsfolk  will  travel 
long  distances  to  pay  them.  Their  respective  places 
and  duties  in  the  house  of  mourning,  their  dress,  words, 
bearing,  precedence,  are  regulated  by  an  ancient  and 
elaborate  etiquette.  And,  strange  as  it  may  seem  to 
us,  these  visits  are  regarded  not  only  as  gratifying 
tokens  of  respect  to  the  dead,  but  as  a  singular  relief 
and  comfort  to  the  living.     To  the  Preacher  and  his 


I50  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

fellow-captives,  therefore,  it  would  be  a  bitter  aggrava- 
tion of  their  grief  that,  while  suffering  under  the  most 
cruel  oppressions  of  misfortune,  they  were  compelled 
to  forego  the  solace  of  these  customary  tokens  of 
respect  and  sympathy.  As  he  pondered  their  sad  and 
unfriended  condition,  Coheleth — like  Job,  when  his 
comforters  failed  him — is  moved  to  curse  his  day. 
The  dead,  he  affirms,  are  happier  than  the  living,^ — even 
the  dead  who  died  so  long  ago  that  the  fate  most 
dreaded  in  the  East  had  befallen  them,  and  the  very 

'  Xerxes,  in  his  invasion  of  Greece,  conceived  the  wish  "  to 
look  upon  all  his  host."  A  throne  was  erected  for  him  on  a  hill 
near  Abydos,  sitting  on  which  he  looked  down  and  saw  the 
Hellespont  covered  with  his  ships,  and  the  vast  plain  swarming 
with  his  troops.  As  he  looked,  he  wept ;  and  when  his  uncle 
Artabanus  asked  him  the  cause  of  his  tears,  he  replied:  "  There 
came  upon  me  a  sudden  pity  when  I  thought  of  the  shortness  of 
man'g  life,  and  considered  that  of  all  this  host,  so  numerous  as  it 
is,  not  one  will  be  alive  when  a  hundred  years  are  gone  by." 
This  is  one  of  the  most  striking  and  best  known  incidents  in  the 
life  of  the  Persian  despot ;  but  the  rejoinder  of  Artabanus,  though 
in  a  far  higher  strain,  is  less  generally  known.  I  quote  it  here 
as  an  illustration  of  the  Preacher's  mood.  Said  Artabanus  :  "And 
yet  there  are  sadder  things  in  life  than  that.  Short  as  our  time 
is,  there  is  no  man,  whether  it  be  here  among  this  multitude  or 
elsewhere,  who  is  so  happy  as  not  to  have  felt  the  wish — I  will 
not  say  once,  but  full  many  a  time — that  he  were  dead  rather 
than  alive.  Calamities  fall  on  us,  sicknesses  vex  and  harass  us, 
and  make  life,  short  though  it  be,  to  appear  long.  So  death, 
through  the  wretchedness  of  our  life,  is  a  most  sweet  refuge  to 
our  race" — Herodotus,  Book  VH.,  c.  46. 


SECOND  SECTION.  151 

memory  of  them  had  perished  from  the  earth  :  while 
happier  than  either  the  dead,  who  have  had  to  suffer  in 
their  time,  or  than  the  Hving,  whose  doom  had  still  to 
be  borne,  were  those  who  had  never  seen  the  light, 
never  been  born  into  a  world  all  disordered  and  out 
of  course  (vv.  2,  3).-^ 

This  stinging  sense  of  the  miserable  estate  of  his 
race  has,  however,  diverted  the  Preacher  from  the  con- 
duct of  the  main  argument  he  had  in  n  is  rendered 
hand  :  to  that  he  now  returns  (ver.  4).      hopeless  by  the 

base  origin  of 

And  now  he  argues :   You  cannot  hope        Human  in- 
to  get  good  fruit  from  a  bad  root.     But  dustries. 

the  several  industries  in  which  you  are  •  1  •,  v  •  4 

tempted  to  seek  "  the  chief  good  and  market  of  your 
time  "  have  a  most  base  and  evil  origin  ;  they  "  spring 
from  man's  jealous  rivalry  with  his  neighbour."  Every 
man  tries  to  outdo  and  to  outsell  his  neighbours  ;  to 
secure  a  larger  business,  to  surround  himself  with  a 
more  profuse  luxury,  or  to  amass  an  ampler  hoard  of 
gold.  This  business  life  of  yours  is  utterly  selfish, 
and  therefore  utterly  base.     You  are  not  content  with  a 

'  So  in  Sophocles  {Oed.  Col.,  1225)  we  read — I  quote  from  Dean 
Plumptre's  translation  : 

"  Never  to  be  at  all 
Excels  all  fame ; 
Quickly,  next  best,  to  pass 
From  whence  we  came." 


152  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

sufficient  provision  for  simple  wants.  You  do  not  seek 
your  neighbour's  good.  You  have  no  noble  or  patriotic 
aim.  Your  ruling  intention  is  to  enrich  yourselves  at 
the  expense  of  neighbours  who,  in  their  turn,  are  your 
rivals  rather  than  your  neighbours,  and  who  try  to  get 
the  better  of  you  just  as  you  try  to  get  the  better  of 
them.  Can  you  hope  to  find  the  true  Good  in  a  life 
whose  aims  are  so  sordid,  whose  motives  so  selfish  ? 
The  very  sluggard  who  folds  his  haixls  in  indolence  so 
long  as  he  has  bread  to  eat  is  a  wiser  man  than  you  ; 
for  he  has  at  least  his  "  handful  of  quiet,"  and  knows 
some  little  enjoyment  of  life  ;  while  you,  driven  on 
by  jealous  competition  and  the  eager  cravings  of  in- 
satiable desire,  have  neither  leisure  nor  appetite  for 
enjoyment :  both  your  hands  are  full,  indeed,  but  there 
is  no  quiet  in  them,  only  labour,  labour,  labour,  with 
vexation  of  spirit  (vv.  5,  6).  y 

So  intense  and  selfish  was  this  rivalry,  increase  of 
appetite  growing  by  what  it  fed  upon,  so  keen  grew  the 
desire  to  amass,  that  the  Preacher  paints  a  portrait,  for 
which  no  doubt  many  a  Hebrew  might  have  sat,  of  a 
man — nay,  rather,  of  a  miser — who,  though  solitary 
and  kinless,  with  not  even  a  son  or  a  brother  to  inherit 
his  wealth,  nevertheless  hoards  up  riches  to  the  close 
of  his  life ;  there  is  no  end  to  his  labours ;  he  never 
can  be  rich  enough  to  allow  himself  any  enjoyment  of 
his  gains  (vv.  7,  8). 


SECOND  SECTION.  153 

Now  a  jealous  rivalry  culminating  in  mere  avarice, — - 
that  surely  is  not  the  wisest  or  noblest  spirit  of  which 
those    are    capable    who     devote    them-        Yet  these  are 
selves   to   affairs.      Even    "  the   idols   of       "'^''^^'  °^'^ 

nobler  Motive 

the  market "  may  have  a  purer  cult.  atid  Mode. 
Business,  like  Wisdom  or  Mirth,  may  Ch.iv.,vv.9-i6. 
neither  be,  nor  contain,  the  supreme  Good  :  still,  like 
them,  it  is  not  in  itself  and  of  necessity  an  evil.  There 
must  be  a  better  mode  of  devotion  to  it  than  this  selfish 
and  greedy  one ;  and  such  a  mode  Coheleth,  before  he 
pursues  his  argument  to  a  close,  pauses  to  point  out. 
As  if  anticipating  a  modern  theory  which  grows  in 
favour  with  the  wiser  sort  of  mercantile  men,  he 
suggests  that  co-operation — of  course  I  use  the  word 
in  its  etymological  rather  than  in  its  technical  sense  — 
should  be  substituted  for  competition.  "  Two  are  better 
than  one,"  he  argues  ;  "  union  is  better  than  isolation  ; 
conjoint  labour  brings  the  larger  reward  "  (ver.  9).  To 
bring  his  suggestion  home  to  the  business  bosom  of 
men,  he  uses  five  illustrations,  four  of  which  have  a 
strong  Oriental  colouring. 

The  first  is  that  of  two  pedestrians  (ver.  10)  ;  if  one 
should  fall — and  such  an  accident,  owing  to  the  bad 
roads  and  long  cumbrous  robes  common  in  the  East, 
was  by  no  means  infrequent — the  other  is  ready  to 
set  him  on  his  feet ;  while,  if  he  is  alone,  the  least 
that  can  befall  him  is  that  his  robe  will  be  trampled 


154  .  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

and  bemired  before  he  can  gather  himself  up  again. 
In  the  second  illustration  (ver.  ii),  our  two  travellers, 
wearied  by  their  journey,  sleep  together  at  its  close. 
Now  in  Syria  the  nights  are  often  keen  and  frosty, 
and  the  heat  of  the  day  makes  men  more  susceptible 
to  the  cold.  The  sleeping-chambers,  moreover,  have 
only  unglazed  lattices  which  let  in  the  frosty  air  as 
well  as  the  welcome  light ;  the  bed  is  commonly  a 
simple  mat,  the  bedclothes  only  the  garments  worn 
through  the  day.  And  therefore  the  natives  huddle 
together  for  the  sake  of  warmth.  To  lie  alone  was  to 
lie  shivering  in  the  chill  night  air.  The  third  illus- 
tration (ver.  12)  is  also  taken  from  the  East.  Our  two 
travellers,  lying  snug  and  warm  on  their  common  mat, 
buried  in  slumber,  that  "  dear  repose  for  limbs  with 
travel  tired,"  were  very  likely  to  be  disturbed  by  thieves 
who  had  dug  a  hole  through  the  clay  walls  of  the 
house,  or  crept  under  the  tent,  to  carry  off  what  they 
could.  These  thieves,  always  on  the  alert  for  travel- 
lers, are  marvellously  supple,  rapid,  and  silent  in  their 
movements ;  but  as  the  traveller,  aware  of  his  danger, 
commonly  puts  his  "  bag  of  needments  "  or  valuables 
under  his  head,  it  does  sometimes  happen  that  the 
deftest  thief  will  rouse  him  by  withdrawing  it.  If  one 
of  our  two  wayfarers  was  thus  aroused,  he  would  call 
on  his  comrade  for  help,  and  between  them  the  thief 
would  stand  a  poor  chance ;  but  the  solitary  traveller. 


SECOND  SECTION.  155 

suddenly  roused  from  sleep,  with  no  helper  at  hand, 
might  very  easily  stand  a  worse  chance  than  the  thief. 
The  fourth  illustration  (ver.  12)  is  that  of  the  threefold 
cord — three  strands  twisted  into  one,  which,  as  we  all 
know,  EngHsh  no  less  than  Hebrew,  is  much  more 
than  three  times  as  strong  as  any  one  of  the  separate 
strands. 

But  in  the  fifth  and  most  elaborate  illustration  (vv. 
13,  14),  we  are  once  more  carried  back  to  the  East. 
The  slightest  acquaintance  with  Oriental  history  will 
teach  us  how  uncertain  is  the  tenure  of  royal  power; 
how  often  it  has  happened  that  a  prisoner  has  been  led 
from  a  dungeon  to  a  throne,  and  a  prince  suddenly 
deposed  and  reduced  to  impotence  and  penury.  Cohe- 
leth  supposes  such  a  case.  On  the  one  hand,  we 
have  a  king  old,  but  not  venerable,  since,  long  as  he 
has  lived,  he  has  not  "  even  yet  learned  to  accept 
admonition ; "  he  has  led  a  solitary,  selfish,  suspicious 
life,  secluded  himself  in  his  harem,  surrounded  himself 
with  a  troop  of  flattering  courtiers  and  slaves.  On  the 
other  hand,  we  have  the  poor  but  wise  young  man, 
"  the  affable  youth,"  who  has  lived  with  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  men,  acquainted  himself  with  their  habits 
and  wants  and  desires,  and  conciliated  their  regard. 
His  growing  popularity  alarms  the  old  despot  and  his 
minions.  He  is  cast  into  prison.  His  wrongs  and  suffer- 
ings endear  him  to  the  wronged  and  suffering  people. 


IS6  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

By  a  sudden  outbreak  of  popular  wrath,  by  a  revolution 
such  as  often  sweeps  through  Eastern  states,  he  is  set 
free,  and  led  from  the  prison  to  the  throne,  although 
he  was  once  so  poor  that  none  would  do  him  reverence. 
This  is  the  picture  in  the  mind's  eye  of  the  Preacher ; 
and,  as  he  contemplates  it,  he  rises  into  a  kind  of 
prophetic  rapture,  and  cries,  "  I  see — I  see  all  the 
living  who  walk  under  the  sun  flocking  to  the  youth 
who  stands  up  in  the  old  king's  stead ;  there  is  no 
end  to  the  multitude  of  the  people  over  whom  he 
ruleth  !"  (ver.    15). 

By  these  graphic  illustrations  Coheleth  sets  forth 
the  superiority  of  the  sociable  over  the  solitary  and 
selfish  temper,  of  union  over  isolation,  of  the  neigh- 
bourly goodwill  which  leads  men  to  combine  for 
common  ends  over  the  jealous  rivalry  which  prompts 
them  to  take  advantage  of  each  other,  and  to  labour 
each  for  himself  alone. 

But  even  as  he  urges  this  better,  happier  temper  on 
men  occupied  with  business  and  public  affairs,  even 
as  he  contemplates  its  brightest  illustration  in  the 
youthful  prisoner  whose  winning  and  sociable  qualities 
have  lifted  him  to  a  throne,  the  old  mood  of  melan- 
choly comes  back  on  him ;  there  is  the  familiar 
pathetic  break  in  his  voice  as  he  concludes  (ver.  16), 
that  even  this  wise  youth,  who  wins  all  hearts  for  a 
time,  will  soon  be  forgotten;  that  "even  this,"  for  all 


SECOND  SECTION.  157 

SO    hopeful    as    it    looks,    "  is  vanity  and  vexation    of 
spirit." 

A  profound  gloom  rests  on  the  second  act  of  this 
Drama.  It  has  already  taught  us  that  we  are  helpless 
in  the  grip  of  laws  which  we  had  no  voice  in  making  ; 
that  we  often  lie  at  the  mercy  of  men  whose  mercy  is 
but  a  caprice ;  that  in  our  origin  and  end,  in  body 
and  spirit,  in  faculty  and  prospect,  in  our  lives  and 
pleasures,  we  are  no  better  than  the  beasts  which  perish : 
that  the  avocations  into  which  we  plunge,  and  amid 
which  we  seek  to  forget  our  sad  estate,  spring  from 
our  jealousy  the  one  of  the  other,  and  tend  to  a  lonely 
miserliness  without  use  or  charm.  The  Preacher's 
familiar  conclusion — "  Be  tranquil,  be  content,  enjoy  as 
much  as  you  can " — has  grown  doubtful  to  him.  He 
has  seen  the  brightest  promise  come  to  nought.  In 
a  new  and  profounder  sense,  "  all  is  vanity  and  vexa- 
tion of  spirit." 

But,  though  passing  through  a  great  darkness,  he 
sees,  and  reflects,  some  little  light.  Even  when  facts 
seem  to  contradict  it,  he  holds  fast  to  the  conclusion 
that  wisdom  is  better  than  folly,  and  kindness  better 
than  selfishness,  and  to  do  good  even  though  you  lose 
by  it  better  than  to  do  evil  and  gain  by  it.  His  faith 
wavers  only  for  a  moment ;  it  never  wholly  loosens 
its  hold.     And,  in  the  fifth    chapter,  the  light  grows, 


158  THE   BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


though  even  here  the  darkness  does  not  altogether 
disappear.  We  are  sensible  that  the  twilight  in 
which  we  stand  is  not  that  of  evening,  which  v/ill 
deepen  into  night,  but  that  of  morning,  which  will 
shine  more  and  more  until  the  day  dawn,  and  the 
daystar  arise  in  the  calm  heaven  of  patient  tranquil 
hearts. 

The  men  of  affairs  are  led  from  the  vocations  of  the 
Market  and  the  intrigues  of  the  Divan  into  the  House 
of  God.       Our  first  glance  at  the   wor-  ^     , 

"  So  also  a 

shippers    is    not    hopeful    or   inspiriting.        happier  and 

_         ,  1  £f  -c  VI ore  effective 

For  here  are   men   who   otter   sacrifices  f 

Method  of 

in  lieu  of  obedience ;  and  here  are  men         Worship  is 

til  i.*i.'  c        open  to  Men : 

whose  prayers  are  a  voluble  repetition  ot 

Ch.  v.,  w.  1-7. 

phrases  which  run  far  in  advance  of  their 
limping  thoughts  and  desires :  and  there  are  men  quick 
to  make  vows  in  moments  of  peril,  but  slow  to  redeem 
them  when  the  peril  is  past.  At  first  the  House  of 
God  looks  very  like  a  House  of  Merchandise,  in  which 
brokers  and  traders  drive  a  traffic  as  dishonest  as  any 
that  disgraces  the  Exchange.  But  while  the  merchants 
and  politicians  stand  criticising  the  conduct  of  the 
worshippers,  the  Preacher  turns  upon  them  and  shows 
them  that  they  are  the  worshippers  whom  they  criticise  ; 
that  he  has  held  up  a  glass  in  which  they  see  them- 
selves as  others  see  them  ;  that  it  is  they  who  vow  and 


SECOND  SECTION.  159 

do  not  pay,  they  who  hurry  on  their  mouths  to  utter 
words  which  their  hearts  do  not  prompt,  they  who  take 
the  roundabout  course  of  sinning  and  sacrificing  for  sin 
instead  of  that  plain  road  of  obedience  which  leads 
straight  to  God. 

But  what  comfort  for  them  is  there  in  that  ?  How 
should  it  help  them,  to  be  beguiled  into  condemning 
themselves  ?  Truly  there  would  not  be  much  comfort 
in  it  did  not  the  compassionate  Preacher  forthwith  dis- 
close the  secret  of  this  dishonest  worship,  and  give 
them  counsels  of  amendment.  He  discloses  the  secret  in 
two  verses  (vv.  3  and  7),  which  have  much  perplexed 
the  readers  of  this  Book.  He  there  explains  that  just 
as  a  mind  harassed  by  much  occupation  and  the  many 
cares  it  breeds  cannot  rest  even  at  nights,  but  busies 
itself  in  framing  wild  disturbing  dreams,  so  also  is  it 
with  the  foolish  worshipper  who,  for  want  of  thought 
and  reverence,  pours  out  before  God  a  multitude  of 
unsifted  and  unconsidered  wishes  in  a  multitude  of 
words.  In  effect  he  says  to  them  :  "You  men  of  affairs 
often  get  little  help  or  comfort  from  the  worship  of 
God  because  you  come  to  it  with  preoccupied  hearts, 
just  as  a  man  gets  little  comfort  from  his  bed  because 
his  brain,  jaded  and  yet  excited  by  many  cares,  will 
not  suffer  him  to  rest.  Hence  it  is  that  you  promise 
more  than  you  perform,  and  utter  prayers  more  devout 
than    any    honest    expression    of  your    desires    would 


i6o  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

warrant,  and  offer  sacrifices  to  avoid  the  charge  and 
trouble  of  obedience  to  the  Divine  laws.  And  as  I 
have  shown  you  a  more  excellent  way  of  transacting 
business  than  the  selfish  grasping  mode  to  which  you 
are  addicted,  so  also  I  will  show  you  a  more  excellent 
style  of  worship.  Go  to  the  House  of  God  '  with  a 
straight  foot,'  a  foot  trained  to  walk  in  the  path  of 
obedience.  Keep  your  heart,  set  a  watch  over  it,  lest 
it  should  be  diverted  from  the  simple  and  devout 
homage  it  should  pay.  Do  not  urge  and  press  it  to 
a  false  emotion,  to  a  strained  and  insincere  mood. 
Let  your  words  be  few  and  reverent  when  you  speak 
to  the  Great  King.  Do  not  vow  except  under  the 
compulsion  of  stedfast  resolves,  and  pay  your  vows 
even  to  your  own  hurt  when  once  they  are  made.  Do 
not  anger  God,  or  the  angel  of  God  who,  as  you 
believe,  presides  over  the  altar,  with  idle  unreal  talk 
and  idle  half-meant  resolves,  making  vows  of  which 
you  afterwards  repent  and  do  not  keep,  pleading  that 
you  made  them  in  error  or  infirmity.  But  in  all  the 
exercises  of  your  worship  show  a  holy  fear  of  the 
Almighty  ;  and  then,  under  the  worst  oppressions  of 
fortune  and  the  heaviest  calamities  of  time,  you  shall 
find  the  House  of  God  a  Sanctuary,  and  his  worship  a 
strength,  a  consolation,  and  a  delight."  This,  surely, 
was  very  wholesome  counsel  for  men  of  business  in 
hard  times. 


SECOND  SECTION.  i6i 

Not  content  with  this,  however,  the  Preacher  goes 
on  to  show  how,  when  they  returned  from  the  House 
of  God  to  the  common  round  of  Hfe,  and 

And  a  more 

were  once  more  exposed  to  its  miseries        helpful  and 

J    J.    .         ,.  .,  ,    •  consolatory 

and  distractions,  there  were  certain  com-  .     , 

'  Trust  in  the 

fortable  and  sustaining  thoughts  on  which      Divine  Provi- 
they  might   stay   their    spirits.      To    the 

Ch.  v.,  vv.  8-17. 

worship  of  the  Sanctuary  he  would  have 
them  add  a  strengthening  trust  in  the   Providence  of 
God.      That   Providence  was  expressed,   as   in   other 
ordinances,  so  also  in  these  two : — ■ 

First ;  whatever  oppressions  and  perversions  of 
justice  and  equity  there  were  in  the  land  (ver.  8),  stiil 
the  judges  and  satraps  who  oppressed  them  were  not 
supreme ;  there  was  an  official  hierarchy  in  which 
superior  watched  over  superior,  and  if  justice  were 
not  to  be  had  of  the  one,  it  might  be  had  of  another 
who  was  above  him  ;  if  it  were  not  to  be  had  of  any, 
no,  not  even  of  the  king  himself,  there  was  this 
reassuring  conviction  that,  in  the  last  resort,  even  the 
king  was  "the  servant  of  the  field"  (ver.  9),  i.e.,  was 
dependent  on  the  wealth  and  produce  of  the  land,  and 
could  not,  therefore,  be  unjust  with  impunity,  or  push 
his  oppressions  too  far  lest  he  should  decrease  his 
revenue  or  depopulate  his  realm.  This  was  "  the 
advantage  "  the  people  had  ;  and  if  it  were  in  itself  but 
a  slight  advantage  to  this  man  or  that,  clearly  it  was 

1 1 


1 62  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

a  great  advantage  to  the  body  politic ;  while  as  an 
indication  of  the  Providence  of  God,  of  the  care  with 
which  He  had  arranged  for  the  general  well-being,  it 
was  full  of  consolation. 

The  second  fact,  or  class  of  facts,  in  which  they 
might  recognise  the  gracious  care  of  God  was  this, — 
That  the  unjust  judges  and  wealthy  rapacious  "lords" 
who  oppressed  them  had  very  much  less  satisfaction 
in  their  fraudulent  gains  than  they  might  suppose. 
God  had  so  made  men  that  injustice  and  selfishness 
defeated  their  own  ends,  and  those  who  lived  for 
wealth,  and  would  do  evil  to  acquire  it,  made  but  a 
poor  bargain  after  all.  "  He  that  loveth  silver  is 
never  satisfied  with  silver,  nor  he  that  clings  to  wealth 
with  what  it  yields"  (ver.  lo).  "When  riches  in- 
crease, they  increase  that  consume  them  " — dependents, 
parasites,  slaves,  flock  around  the  man  who  rises  to 
wealth  and  place.  He  cannot  eat  and  drink  more,  or 
enjoy  more,  than  when  he  was  a  man  simply  well- 
to-do  in  the  world ;  the  only  advantage  he  has  is  that 
he  sees  others  consume  what  he  has  acquired  at  so 
great  a  cost  (ver.    1 1).^      He  cannot  know  the  sweet 

'  Ginsburg  quotes  a  capital  illustration  of  this  verse  from  the 
dialogue  of  Pheraulas  and  Sacian  (Xenophon,  Cyrop.,  viii.  3)  ; 
•'  Do  you  think,  Sacian,  that  I  live  with  more  pleasure  the  more 
I  possess  ?  ...  By  having  /this  abundance  I  gain  merely  this, 
that  I  have  to  guard  more,  to  distribute  more  to  others,  and  have 
the  trouble  of  taking  care  of  more  ;  for  a  great  many  attendants 


SECOND  SECTION.  163 

refreshing  sleep  of  husbandmen  weary  with  toil  (ver. 
12),  for  his  heart  is  full  of  care  and  apprehension. 
Robbers  may  drive  off  his  flocks,  or  "  lift "  his  cattle  ; 
his  investments  may  fail,  or  his  secret  hoard  be  plun- 
dered; he  must  trust  much  to  servants,  and  they 
may  be  unfaithful  to  their  trust ;  his  official  superiors 
may  ruin  him  with  the  bribes  they  extort,  or  the 
prince  himself  may  want  a  sponge  to  squeeze.  If 
none  of  these  evils  befall  him,  he  may  apprehend, 
and  have  cause  to  apprehend,  that  his  heir  longs  for 
his  death,  and  will  prove  little  better  than  a  fool, 
wasting  in  wanton  riot  what  he  has  amassed  with 
much  painful  toil  (vv.  13,  14).  And,  in  any  event, 
he  cannot  take  his  wealth  with  him  on  his  last  journey 
(vv.  15,  16).  So  that,  naturally  enough,  he  is  much 
perturbed,  and  "hath  great  vexation  and  grief"  (ver.' 
17),  cannot  sleep  for  his  apprehensive  care  for  his 
"  abundance  ;  "  and  at  last  must  go  out  of  the  world  as 
bare  and  unprovided  as  he  came  into  it.^     He  "  labours 


now  demand  of  me  their  food,  their  drink,  and  their  clothes. 
Whosoever,  therefore,  is  greatly  pleased  with  the  possession  of 
riches  will,  be  assured,  feel  much  annoyed  at  the  expenditure  of 
them." 

^  Compare  Psalm  xlix.,  vv.  16,  17  : 

Be  not  afraid  though  one  be  made  rich, 
Or  if  the  glory  of  his  house  be  increased  ; 
For  lie  shall  carry  away  nothing  with  him  when  he  dicth 
Neither  shall  his  pomp  follow  him. 


i64  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

for  the  wind,"  and  reaps  what  he  has  sown.  Was 
such  a  life,  mounting  to  such  a  close,  a  thing  to  long 
for  and  toil  for  ?  Was  it  worth  while  to  hurl  oneself 
against  the  adamantine  laws  of  Heaven  and  risk  the 
oppressions  of  earth,  to  injure  one's  neighbours,  to 
sink  into  an  insincere  and  distracted  worship  and  a 
weakening  distrust  of  the  providence  of  God,  in 
order  to  spend  anxious  toilsome  days  and  sleepless 
nights,  and  at  last  to  go  out  of  the  world  naked  of 
all  but  guilt,  and  rich  in  nothing  but  the  memory  of 
frauds  and  wrongs  ?  Might  not  even  a  captive  or  a 
slave,  whose  sleep  was  sweetened  by  toil,  and  who, 
from  his  trust  in  God  and  the  sacred  delights  of 
honest  worship,  gathered  strength  to  endure  all  the 
oppressions  of  the  time,  and  to  enjoy  whatever  allevia- 
tions and  innocent  pleasures  were  vouchsafed  him — 
might  not  even  he  be  a  wiser,  happier  man  than  the 
despot  at  whose  caprice  he  stood  ? 

For  himself  Coheleth    has   a  very  decided   opinion 

on     this    point.        He    is    quite     sure     that       The  Conclusion. 

his  first  conclusion  is  sound,  though  for  Ch.v.,vv.  18-20. 
a  moment  he  had  questioned  its  soundness,  and  that 
a  quiet,  cheerful,  and  obedient  heart  is  greater  riches 
than  the  wealthiest  estate.  With  all  the  emphasis  of 
renewed  and  now  immovable  conviction  he  declares. 
Behold,  that  which  I    have  said  holds  good  ;   it  is 


SECOND  SECTION.  165 

well  for  a  man  to  eat  and  to  drink,  and  to  enjoy 
the  good  of  all  his  labours  through  the  brief  day  of 
his  life.  And  I  have  also  said — and  this  too  is  true 
— that  a  man  to  whom  God  hath  given  riches  and 
wealth — for  even  a  rich  man  may  be  a  good  man 
and  use  his  wealth  wisely — if  He  hath  also  enabled 
him  to  eat  thereof,  and  to  take  his  portion,  and  to 
rejoice  in  his  labour — this  too  is  a  most  Divine  gift. 
He  does  not  fret  over  the  brevity  of  his  life  ;  it  is  not 
much,  or  often,  or  sadly  in  his  thoughts  :  for  he  knows 
that  the  joy  his  heart  takes  in  the  toils  and  pleasures 
of  life  is  approved  by  God,  or  even,  as  the  phrase 
seems  to  mean,  corresponds  in  some  measure  with  the 
joy  of  God  Himself;  that  his  tranquil  enjoyment  is  a 
reflection  of  the  Divine  peace. 

11.^  There  are  not  many  Englishmen  who  devote 
themselves  solely  or  mainly  to  the  acquisition  of 
Wisdom,  and  who,  that  they  may  teach  the  children 
of  men  that  which  is  good,  live  laborious  days,  with- 

'  In  commenting  on  Sections  II.  and  III.  of  this  Book  I  found 
that  both  the  exposition  of  the  sacred  text  and  the  appHcation  of 
its  lessons  to  the  details  of  modern  life  would  gain  in  force  by 
being  handled  separately.  The  second  part  of  each  of  these 
chapters  consists  mainly,  therefore,  of  an  exhortation  based  on 
the  previous  exposition,  the  marginal  notes  indicating  the 
passages  of  Holy  Writ  on  which  these  exhortations  are  based. 


i66  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

drawing  from  the  general  pursuit  of  wealth  and  scorning 
the  lures  of  ease  and  self-indulgence ;  such  men,  in- 
deed, are  but  a  small  minority  in  any  age  or  land. 
Nor  do  those  who  give  themselves  exclusively  to  the 
pursuit  of  Pleasure  constitute  more  than  a  small  and 
miserable  class,  though  most  of  us  have  wasted  on  it 
days  that  we  could  ill  spare.  But  when  the  Hebrew 
Preacher,  having  followed  his  quest  of  the  supreme 
Good  in  Pleasure  and  Wisdom,  turns  to  the  affairs  of 
Business — and  I  use  that  term  as  including  both 
commerce  and  politics — he  enters  a  field  of  action  and 
inquiry  with  which  we  are  nearly  all  familiar,  and  can 
hardly  fail  to  speak  words  which  will  touch  us  close 
home.  For,  whatever  else  we  may  or  may  not  be,  we 
are  most  of  us  among  the  worshippers  of  the  great  god. 
Traffic — a  god  whose  wholesome,  benignant  face  too 
often  lowers  and  darkens,  or  ever  we  are  aware,  into 
the  sordid  and  malignant  features  of  Mammon. 

Now  in  dealing  with  this  broad  and  momentous  pro- 
vince of  human  life  the  Preacher  exhibits  the  candour 
and  the  temperance  which  marked  his  treatment  of 
Wisdom  and  Mirth.  Just  as  he  would  not  suffer  us  to 
think  of  Wisdom  as  in  itself  an  evil,  nor  of  Pleasure 
as  an  evil,  so  neither  will  he  allow  us  to  think  of 
Business  as  essentially  and  of  necessity  an  evil.  This, 
like  those,  may  be  abused  to  our  hurt ;  but  none  the 
less  they  may  all  be  used,  and  were  meant  to  be  used, 


SECOND  SECTION.  167 

for  our  own  and  our  neighbours'  good.  Pursued  in 
the  right  method,  from  the  right  motive,  with  the  due 
moderation  and  reserve.  Business,  as  he  is  careful  to 
point  out,  besides  bringing  other  great  advantages, 
may  be  a  new  bond  of  union  and  brotherhood  :  it 
develops  intercourse  among  men  and  races  of  men,  and 
should  develop  sympathy,  goodwill,  and  a  mutual 
helpfulness.  Nevertheless,  thrift  may  degenerate  into 
miserliness,  and  the  honest  industry  of  content  into  a 
dishonest  eagerness  for  undue  gains,  and  a  wise  atten- 
tion to  business  into  an  excessive  devotion  to  it.  These 
degenerate  tendencies  had  struck  their  roots  deep  into 
the  Hebrew  mind  of  his  day,  and  brought  forth  many 
bitter  fruits.  The  Preacher  describes  and  denounces 
them ;  he  lays  an  axe  to  the  very  roots  of  these  evil 
growths  :  but  it  is  only  that  he  may  clear  a  space  for 
the  fairer  and  more  wholesome  growths  which  sprang 
beside  them,  and  of  which  they  were  the  wild  bastard 
offshoots. 

Throughout  this  second  section  of  the  Book,  his  sub- 
ject is  excessive  devotion  to  Business,  and  the  correc- 
tives to  it  which  his  experience  enables  him  to  suggest, 

I.  His  handling  of  the  subject  is  very  thorough  and 
complete.  Men  of  business  might  do  worse  than  get 
the  lessons  he  here  teaches  by  heart.  According  to 
him,  their  excessive  devotion  to  affairs  springs  from  a 
"jealous  rivalry"  ;  it  tends  to  form  in  them  a  grasping 


1 68  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

covetous  temper  which  can  never  be  satisfied,  to  pro- 
duce a  materialistic  scepticism  of  all  that  is  noble, 
spiritual,  aspiring  in  thought  and  action,  to  render 
their  worship  formal  and  insincere,  and,  in  general,  to 
incapacitate  them  for  any  quiet  happy  enjoyment  of 
their  life.  This  is  his  diagnosis  of  their  disease,  or  of 
that  diseased  tendency  which,  if  it  be  for  the  most  part 
latent  in  them,  always  threatens  to  become  pronounced 
and  to  infect  all  healthy  conditions  of  the  soul. 

(a)  Let  us  glance  once  more  at  the  several  symptoms 
we  have  already  heard  him  discuss,  and  consider  whether 
or  not  they  accord  with  the  results  of  our        Devotion  to 
own    observation  and    experience.     Is  it  Business 

springs  from 

true,  then— or,  rather,  is  it  not  true— that     ^^^^^^^;  ^ompe- 
our    devotion    to    business    is    becoming  tition.: 

excessive  and  exhausting,  and  that  this  ^'  ^^"  '  ■*' 
devotion  springs  mainly  from  our  jealous  rivalry  and 
competition  with  each  other  ?  If,  some  two  or  three 
and  twenty  centuries  ago,  the  Jews  were  bent  every 
man  on  outdoing  and  outselling  his  neighbour;  if  his 
main  ambition  was  to  amass  greater  wealth  or  to  secure 
a  larger  business  than  his  competitors,  or  to  make  a 
handsomer  show  before  the  world ;    if  in   the  urgent 

'  Coheleth's  description  is  so  true  and  pertinent,  it  hits  so  many 
of  our  modern  faults  and  sins,  that  I  am  obHged  to  cite  my  autlior- 
ity  for  every  paragraph  lest  I  should  be  suspected  of  putting  a 
private  and  personal  interpretation  on  these  ancient  words. 


SECOND  SECTION.  169 


pursuit  of  this  ambition  he  held  his  neighbours  not  as 
neighbours,  but  as  unscrupulous  rivals,  keen  for  gain  at 
his  expense  and  to  rise  by  his  fall ;  if,  to  reach  his  end, 
he  was  willing  to  get  up  early  and  go  late  to  rest,  to 
force  all  his  energies  into  an  injurious  activity  and 
strain  them  close  to  the  snapping-point :  if  this  were 
what  a  Jew  of  that  time  was  like,  might  you  not 
easily  take  it  for  a  portrait  of  many  an  English  mer- 
chant, manufacturer,  lawyer,  or  politician  ?  Is  it  not 
as  accurate  a  delineation  of  our  life  as  it  could  be  of 
any  ancient  form  of  life  ?  If  it  be,  as  I  think  it  is,  we 
have  grave  need  to  take  the  Preacher's  warning.  We 
gravely  need  to  remember  that  the  stream  cannot  rise 
above  its  source,  nor  the  fruit  be  better  than  the  root 
from  which  it  grows ;  that  the  business  ardour  which 
has  its  origin  in  a  base  and  selfish  motive  can  only  be 
a  base  and  selfish  ardour.  When  men  gather  grapes 
from  thorns  and  figs  from  thistles,  then,  but  not  before, 
we  may  look  to  find  a  satisfying  good  in  "  all  the  toil 
and  all  the  dexterity  in  toil "  which  spring  from  this 
"jealous  rivalry  of  the  one  with  the  other." 

(b)  Nor,  in  the  face  of  facts  patent  to  the  most  cursory 
observer,  can  we  deny  that  this  eager  and  excessive 
devotion     to    the    successful    conduct    of     it  tends  to  form 

a  Covetous 

business    tends    to    produce    a  grasping,  Temper- 

covetous  temper  which,  however  much  it        Ch.  iv.,  v.  8. 
has  gained,  is  for  ever  seeking  more.     It  is  not  only 


I70  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

true  that  the  stream  cannot  rise  above  its  source ;  it  is 
also  true  that  the  stream  will  run  downward,  and  must 
inevitably  contract  many  pollutions  from  the  lower  levels 
on  which  it  declines.  The  ardour  which  impels  men  to 
devote  themselves  with  eager  intensity  to  the  labours  of 
the  Market  may  often  have  an  origin  as  pure  as  that 
of  the  stream  which  bubbles  up  on  the  hills,  amid  grass 
and  ferns,  and  runs  tinkling  along  its  clear  rocky 
channels,  setting  its  labour  to  a  happy  music,  singing 
its  low  sweet  song  to  the  sweet  listening  air.  But  as 
it  runs  on,  if  it  swell  in  volume  and  power,  it  also  sinks 
and  grows  foul.  Bent  at  first  on  acquiring  the  means 
to  support  a  widowed  mother,  or  to  justify  him  in 
taking  a  wife,  or  to  provide  for  his  children,  or  to  win 
an  honourable  place  in  his  neighbours'  eyes,  or  to 
achieve  the  chance  of  self-culture  and  self-development, 
or  to  serve  some  public  and  worthy  end,  the  man  of 
business  and  affairs  too  often  suffers  himself  to  become 
more  and  more  absorbed  in  his  pursuits.  He  conceives 
larger  schemes,  is  drawn  into  more  perilous  enterprises, 
and  advances  through  these  to  fresh  openings  and 
opportunities,  until  at  last,  long  after  his  original  ends 
are  compassed  and  forgotten,  he  finds  himself  possessed 
by  the  mere  craving  to  extend  his  labours,  resources, 
influence,  if  not  by  the  mere  craving  to  amass — a  crav- 
ing which  often  "  teareth  "  and  "  tormenteth  "  him,  but 
which  can  only  be  exorcised  by  an  exertion  of  spiritual 


SECOND  SECTION.  171 

force  which  would  leave  him  half  dead.  "  He  has  no 
one  with  him,  not  even  a  son  or  a  brother ; "  the  dear 
mother  or  wife  is  long  since  dead ;  his  children,  to  use 
his  own  detestable  phrase,  are  "  off  his  hands " ;  the 
public  good  has  slipped  from  his  memory  and  aims  : 
but  still  "  there  is  no  end  to  9II  his  labours,  neither 
are  his  eyes  satisfied  with  riches."  Coheleth  speaks 
of  one  such  man  :  alas,  of  how  many  such  might  we 
speak ! 

(c)  The  "  speculation  "  in  the  eye  of  business  men  is 
not  commonly  of  a  philosophic  cast,  and  therefore  we 
do  not  look  to  find  them  arguing  them-        To  produce  a 
selves  into  the  materialism  which  infected       Materialistic 

Scepticism  ; 

the  Hebrew  Preacher  as  he  contemplated  q^  - 

them  and  their  blind  devotion  to  their  ^v.  18-21. 
idol.  They  are  far,  perhaps  very  far,  from  thinking 
that  in  body  and  spirit,  in  origin  and  end,  man  is  no 
better  than  the  beast,  a  creature  of  the  same  accident 
and  subject  to  "  the  same  chance."  But  though  they 
do  not  reason  out  a  conclusion  so  sombre  and  depress- 
ing, do  they  not  practically  acquiesce  in  it  ?  If  it  is 
far  from  their  thoughts,  do  they  not  live  in  its  close 
neighbourhood  ?  Their  mind,  like  the  dyer's  hand,  is 
subdued  to  that  it  works  in.  Accustomed  to  think 
mainly  of  material  interests,  their  character  is  mate- 
riaHsed.  They  are  disposed  to  weigh  all  things — 
truth,  righteousness,  the  motives    and  aims  of  nobler 


172  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

men — in  the  scales  of  the  market,  and  can  very  hardly 
believe  that  they  should  attach  any  grave  value  to  ought 
which  will  not  lend  itself  to  their  coarse  handling.  In 
their  judgment,  mental  culture,  or  the  graces  of  moral 
character,  or  single-hearted  devotion  to  lofty  ends,  are 
not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  a  full  purse  or  large 
possessions.  They  regard  as  little  better  than  a  fool, 
of  whom  it  is  very  kind  of  them  to  take  a  little  care, 
the  man  who  has  thrown  away  what  they  call  "  his 
chances,"  in  order  that  he  may  learn  wisdom  or  do 
good.  Giving,  perhaps,  a  cheerful  and  unforced  accord 
to  the  current  moral  maxims  and  popular  creed,  they 
permit  neither  to  rule  their  conduct.  If  they  do  not 
say,  "  Man  is  no  better  than  a  beast,"  they  carry  them- 
selves as  if  he  were  no  better,  as  though  he  had  no 
instincts  or  interests  above  those  of  the  thrifty  ant, 
or  the  cunning  beaver,  or  the  military  locust,  or  the 
insatiable  leech — although  they  are  both  surprised  and 
affronted  when  one  is  at  the  pains  to  translate  their 
deeds  into  words.  Judged  by  their  deeds,  they  are 
sceptics  and  materialists,  since  they  have  no  vital  faith 
in  that  which  is  spiritual  and  unseen.  They  have 
found  "  the  life  of  their  hands,"  and  they  are  content 
with  it.  Give  them  whatever  furnishes  the  senses, 
whatever  in  them  holds  by  sense,  and  they  will 
cheerfully  let  all  else  go.  But  such  a  materialism  as 
this  is  far  more  injurious,  far  more  likely  to  be  fatal, 


SECOND  SECTION.  173 

than  that  which  reflects,  and  argues,  and  utters  itself 
in  words,  and  refutes  itself  by  the  very  powers  which 
it  employs.  With  them  the  malady  has  struck  inward, 
and  is  beyond  the  reach  of  cure  save  by  the  most 
searching  and  drastic  remedies. 

(d)  But  now  if,  like  Coheleth,  we  follow  these  men 
to  the  Temple,  what  is  the  scene  that  meets  our  eye  ? 
In  the  English  Temple,  I  fear,  that  which      ^^  ^>'^^^  ^'°^- 

ship  Formal 

would  first  strike  an  unaccustomed  ob-  ^^^^  insincere- 
server  would  be  the  fact  that  very  few  Ch.  v.,w.  1-7. 
men  of  business  are  there.  They  are  "  conspicuous 
by  their  absence,"  or,  at  best,  noted  for  an  only  occa- 
sional attendance.  The  Hebrew  Temple  was  crowded 
with  men ;  in  the  English  Temple  it  is  the  other  sex 
which  predominates.  But  glance  at  the  men  who  are 
there  ?  Do  you  detect  no  signs  of  weariness  and 
perfunctoriness  ?  Do  you  hear  no  vows  which  will 
never  be  paid,  and  which  they  do  not  intend  to  pay  even 
when  they  make  them  ?  no  prayers  which  go  beyond 
any  honest  and  candid  expression  of  their  desires  ? 
Do  you  not  feel  and  know  that  many  of  them  are 
making  an  unwilling  sacrifice  to  the  decencies  and  the 
proprieties,  instead  of  worshipping  God  the  Spirit  in 
spirit  and  nerving  themselves  for  the  difficulties  of 
obedience  to  the  Divine  law  ?  Listen  :  they  are  saying, 
"  Almighty  God,  Father  of  all  mercies,  we  bless  Thee 
for  our  creation,  preservation,  and  all  the  blessings  of 


174  TH^  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

this  life  ;  but  above  all  for  Thine  inestimable  love  in  the 
redemption  of  the  world  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  for 
the  means  of  grace,  and  for  the  hope  of  glory."  But 
are  these  ineffable  spiritual  benefits  "  above  all  "  else  to 
them  ?  Do  they  care  for  "  the  means  of  grace  "  as  much 
even  as  for  the  state  of  the  market,  or  for  "  the  hope  of 
glory  "  as  much  as  for  success  or  promotion  ?  Which 
is  most  in  their  thoughts,  their  lives,  their  aspirations, 
for  which  will  they  take  most  pains  and  make  m^ost 
sacrifices — for  what  they  mean  by  the  beautiful  phrase 
"  all  the  blessings  of  this  life,"  or  for  that  sacred  and 
crowning  act  of  the  Divine  Mercy,  "  the  redemption," 
in  which  God  has  once  for  all  revealed  his  fatherly 
forgiving  love  ? 

What  is  it  that  makes  their  worship  formal  and 
insincere  ?  It  is  the  very  cause  which,  as  the  Preacher 
tells  us,  produced  the  like  evil  effect  upon  the  Jews. 
They  come  into  the  Temple  with  pre-occupied  hearts. 
Their  thoughts  are  distracted  by  the  cares  of  life 
even  as  they  bend  in  worship.  And  hence  even  the 
most  sacred  words  turn  to  "  idle  talk "  on  their  lips, 
as  remote  from  the  true  feeling  of  the  moment  as 
"  the  multitude  of  dreams "  which  haunt  the  night ; 
they  utter  fervent  prayers  without  any  due  sense  of 
their  meaning,  or  any  hearty  wish  to  have  them 
granted. 

{e)  Now  surely  a  life  so  thick  with  perils,  so  beset 


SECOND  SECTION.  175 

with  temptations,  should  have  a  very  large  and  certain 
reward  to  offer.     But  has  it  ?     For  one,         ^  j^  s  1. 

'  And  to  take 

Coheleth    thinks    it    has    not.        In    his      from  Life  its 

,  ,  , .  ,  .  .  Quiet  and  In- 

ludgment,    according   to  his    experience,  ,  _  . 

•'       °  '  °  L-  >        no  cent  E?ijoy- 

instead  of  making  a  man  happier  even  in  ments. 

this  present  time,  to  which  it  limits  his  •  v., w.  10-17. 
thoughts  and  aims,  it  robs  him  of  all  quiet  and  happy 
enjoyment  of  his  life.  And,  mark,  it  is  not  the  unsuc- 
cessful man  of  business,  who  might  naturally  feel  sore 
and  aggrieved,  but  the  successful  man,  the  man  who 
has  made  a  fortune  and  prospered  in  his  schemes, 
whom  the  Preacher  describes  as  having  lost  all  faculty 
of  enjoying  his  gains.  Even  the  man  who  has  wealth 
•and  abundance,  so  that  his  soul  lacketh  nothing  of  all 
that  he  desireth,  is  placed  before  us  as  the  slave  of 
unsatisfied  desire  and  constant  apprehension.  Both 
his  hands  are  so  full  of  labour  that  he  cannot  lay  hold 
on  quiet.  Though  he  loves  silver  so  well,  and  has  so 
much  of  it,  he  is  not  satisfied  therewith ;  his  riches 
yield  him  no  certain  and  abiding  delight.  And  how 
can  he  be  in  "  happy  plight "  who  is 

"  debarred  the  benefit  of  rest  ? 
When  day's  oppression  is  not  eased  by  night, 
But  day  by  night,  and  night  by  day,  oppress'd  ? 
And  each,  though  enemies  to  either's  reign, 
Do  in  consent  shake  hands  to  torture  him." 

The  sound  sleep  of  humble  contented  labour  is  denied 


176  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

him.  He  is  haunted  by  perpetual  apprehensions  that 
"  there  is  some  ill  a-brewing  to  his  rest,"  that  evil  in 
some  dreaded  shape  will  befall  him.  He  doubts  "  the 
filching  age  will  steal  his  treasure."  He  knows  that 
when  he  is  called  hence  he  can  carry  away  nothing  in 
his  hand  ;  all  his  gains  must  be  left  to  his  heir,  who 
may  either  turn  out  a  wanton  fool  or  be  crushed  and 
degraded  by  the  burden  and  temptations  of  a  wealth 
for  which  he  has  not  laboured.  And  hence,  amid  all 
his  toils  and  gains,  even  the  most  prosperous  and 
successful  man  suspects  that  he  has  been  "  labour- 
ing for  the  wind"  and  may  reap  the  whirlwind  : 
"  he  is  much  perturbed,  and  hath  vexation  and 
grief." 

Is  the  picture  overdrawn  ?  Is  not  the  description 
as  true  to  modern  experience  as  to  that  of  "  the 
antique  world  "  ?  Shakespeare,  who  is  our  great  English 
authority  on  the  facts  of  human  experience,  thought  it 
quite  as  true.  His  Merchant  of  Venice  has  argosies 
on  every  sea ;  and  two  of  his  friends,  hearing  him 
confess  that  sadness  makes  such  a  want-wit  of  him 
that  he  has  much  ado  to  know  himself,  tell  him  that  his 
"  mind  is  tossing  on  the  ocean  "  with  his  ships.  They 
proceed  to  discuss  the  natural  effects  of  having  so 
many  enterprises  on  hand.     One  says — 

"  Believe  me,  Sir,  had  I  such  venture  forth, 
The  better  part  of  my  affections  would 


SECOND  SECTION.  177 

Be  with  my  hopes  abroad.     I  should  be  still 
Plucking  the  grass,  to  know  where  sits  the  wind  ; 
Peering  in  maps  for  ports,  and  piers,  and  roads  ; 
And  every  object  that  might  make  me  fear 
Misfortune  to  my  ventures,  out  of  doubt 
Would  make  me  sad." 

And  the  other  adds — 

"  My  wind,  cooling  my  broth, 
Would  blow  me  to  an  "Sgue,  when  I  thought 
What  harm  a  wind  too  great  at  sea  might  do. 
I  should  not  see  the  sandy  hour-glass  run, 
But  I  should  think  of  shallows  and  of  flats. 
And  see  my  wealthy  Andrew,  dock'd  in  sand, 
Vailing  her  high-top  lower  than  her  ribs 
To  kiss  her  burial.     Should  I  go  to  church 
And  see  the  holy  edifice  of  stone. 
And  not  bethink  me  straight  of  dangerous  rocks. 
Which,  touching  but  my  gentle  vessel's  side, 
Would  scatter  all  her  spices  in  the  stream ; 
Enrobe  the  roaring  waters  with  my  silks : 
And,  in  a  word,  but  even  now  worth  this. 
And  now  worth  nothing  ?     Shall  I  have  the  thought 
To  think  on  this  ;  and  shall  I  lack  the  thought 
That  such  a  thing  bechanced  would  make  me  sad  ?  " 

"  Abundance  suffereth  not  the  rich  to  sleep ; "  the 
thought  that  his  "  riches  may  perish  in  some  unlucky 
adventure  "  rings  a  perpetual  alarum  in  his  ears :  "  all 
his  days  he  eateth  in  darkness,  and  is  much  perturbed, 
and  hath  vexation  and  grief."  These  are  the  words 
of  the  Hebrew  Preacher  :  are  not  our  own  great  poet's 

12 


178  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

words  an  expressive  commentary  on  them,  an  absolute 
confirmation  of  them,  covering  them  point  by  point  ? 
And  shall  we  envy  the  wealthy  merchant  whose  two 
hands  are  thus  "  full  of  labour  and  vexation  of  spirit "  ? 
Is  not  "  the  husbandman  whose  sleep  is  sweet,  whether 
he  eat  little  or  much,"  better  off  than  he  ?  Nay,  has 
not  even  the  sluggard  who,  so  long  as  he  hath  meat, 
foldeth  his  hands  in  quiet,  a  truer  enjoyment  of  his 
life? 

Of  course  Coheleth  does  not  mean  to  imply  that 
every  man  of  business  degenerates  into  a  miserly 
sceptic,  whose  worship  is  a  formulated  hypocrisy  and 
whose  life  is  haunted  with  saddening  apprehensions  of 
misfortune.  No  doubt  there  were  then,  as  there  are 
now,  many  men  of  business  who  were  wise  enough  to 
"take  pleasure  in  all  their  labours,"  to  cast  their  burden 
of  care  on  Him  in  whose  care  stand  both  to-morrow 
and  to-day ;  men  to  whom  worship  was  a  calming  and 
strengthening  communion  with  the  Father  of  their 
spirits,  and  who  advanced,  through  toil,  to  worthy  or 
even  noble  ends.  He  means  simply  that  these  are  the 
perils  to  which  all  men  of  business  are  exposed,  and 
into  which  they  fall  so  soon  as  their  devotion  to  its 
affairs  grows  excessive.  "  Make  business,  and  success 
in  business,  your  chief  good,  your  ruling  aim,  and  you 
will  come  to  think  of  your  neighbours  as  selfish  rivals  ; 
you  will  begin   to  look  askance  on  the  lofty  spiritual 


SECOND  SECTION.  179 

qualities  which  refuse  to  bow  to  the  yoke  of  Mammon  ; 
your  worship  will  sink  into  an  insincere  formalism  ;  your 
life  will  be  vexed  and  saddened  with  fears  which  will 
strangle  the  very  faculty  of  tranquil  enjoyment :  "  this 
is  the  warning  of  the  Preacher ;  a  warning  of  which 
our  generation,  in  such  urgent  sinful  haste  to  be  rich, 
stands  in  very  special  need. 

2.  But  what  checks,  what  correctives,  what  remedies, 
would  the  Preacher  have  us  apply  to  the  diseased 
tendencies  of  the  time  ?  How  shall  men  of  business 
save  themselves  from  being  absorbed  in  its  interests 
and  affairs  ? 

(a)  Well,  the  very  sense  of  the  danger  to  which  they 
are  exposed — a  danger  so  insidious,  so  profound,  so 
fatal — should  surely  induce  caution  and  a 

The  Correc- 

wary  self-control.     The  symptoms  of  the        tivesoftids 
disease  are  described  that  we  may  judge      Devotion  are  a 

Sense  of  its 

whether  or  not  we  are  infected  by  it;  its  Perils; 

dreadful  issues  that,  if  infected,  we  may        ^^^-  ^■■>  ^• 

10-17. 
study    a    cure.       The    man    who    loves 

riches  is  placed  before  us  that  we  may  learn  what  he 
is  really  like — that  he  is  not  the  careless  happy  being 
we  often  assume  him  to  be.  We  see  him  decline 
on  the  low  bare  levels  of  covetousness  and  mate- 
rialism, hypocrisy  and  fear ;  and,  as  we  look,  the 
Preacher  turns  upon  us  with,  "  There,  tJiat  is  the  slave 
of  Mammon  in   his  habit  as  he  lives.      Do  you   care 


i8o  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

to  be  like  that  ?  Will  you  break  your  heart  unless 
you  are  allowed  to  assume  his  heavy  and  degrading 
burden  ? " 

This  is  one  help  to  a  wise  content  with  our  lot ;  but 
he  has  many  more  at  our  service,  and  notably  this, — 
that  an  undue  devotion  to  the  toils  of  AndtheCon- 
business    is    contrary    to    the    will,    the      vutiou  that  it 

is  opposed  to 

design,  the  providence  of  God.     God,  he        ^j^^  wuiof 
argues,  has  fixed  a  time  for  every  under-         God  as  ex- 

'pressed  171  the 

taking  under  heaven,  and  has  made  each      ^  ,.  ^ 

o  '  Ordinances  of 

of  them  beautiful  in  its  season,  but  only  his  Providence, 
then.  By  his  wise  kindly  ordinances  He  ^^-  "'•'  ^^-  '■^• 
has  sought  to  divert  us  from  an  injurious  excess  in  toil. 
Our  sowing  and  our  reaping,  our  time  of  rest  and  our 
time  for  work,  the  time  to  save  and  the  time  to  spend, 
the  time  to  gain  and  the  time  to  lose, — all  these,  with 
all  the  fluctuating  feelings  they  excite  in  us  :  in  short, 
our  whole  life,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  is  under, 
or  should  be  under,  law  to  Him.  It  is  only  when  we 
violate  his  gracious  ordinances, — working  when  we 
should  be  at  rest,  waking  when  we  should  sleep,  saving 
when  we  should  spend,  weeping  over  losses  which  are 
real  gains,  or  laughing  over  gains  which  will  prove  to 
be  losses, — that  we  run  into  excess,  and  break  up  the 
peaceful  order  and  tranquil  flow  of  the  life  which  He 
designed  for  us. 

Because  we  will  not  be  obsequious  to  the  ordinances 


SECOND  SECTION. 


of  his  wisdom,  He  permits  us  to  meet  a  new  check  in 
the  caprice  and  injustice  of  man — making  j^^  ^j^^  Wrongs 
even  these  to  praise  Him  by  subserving  which  He  per- 
our  good.  If  we  do  not  suflfer  the  violent  i„jiictupon  us; 
oppressions  which  drew  tears  from  the  Ch.  iii.,  v.  16- 
Preacher's   fellow-captives,  we   neverthe-  ^  ^^"  ^'  ^' 

less  stand  very  much  at  the  mercy  of  our  neighbours  in 
so  far  as  our  outward  haps  are  concerned.  Unwise 
human  laws  or  an  unjust  administration  of  them,  or  the 
selfish  rapacity  of  individual  men — brokers  who  rig  the 
market ;  bankers  whose  long  prayers  are  a  pretence 
under  cloak  of  which  they  rob  widows  and  orphans, 
and  sometimes  make  them ;  bankrupts  for  whose 
wounds  the  Gazette  has  a  singular  power  of  healing, 
since  they  come  out  of  it  "  sounder "  men  than  they 
went  in  :  these  are  only  some  of  the  instruments  by 
which  the  labours  of  the  diligent  are  shorn  of  their 
due  reward.  And  we  are  to  take  these  checks  as 
correctives,  to  find  in  the  losses  which  men  inflict  the 
gifts  of  a  gracious  God.  He  permits  us  to  suffer 
these  and  the  like  disasters  lest  our  hearts  should  be 
overmuch  set  on  getting  gain.  He  graciously  permits 
us  to  suffer  them  that,  seeing  how  often  the  wicked 
thrive  (in  a  way  and  for  a  time)  on  the  decay  of  the 
upright,  we  may  learn  that  there  is  something  better 
than  wealth,  more  enduring,  more  satisfying,  and  may 
seek  that  higher  good. 


1 82  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


Nay,  going  to  the  very  root  of  the  matter  and 
expounding  its  whole  philosophy,  the  Preacher  teaches 
us  that  wealth,  however  great  and  greatly      ^''^  ^^o'"^  «^^. 

ZTl  iJt€  ZfHtKOf' 

used,  cannot  satisfy  men,  since  God  has       tai  Cravin<'s 
^^  put  eto'nity  into  their  hearts  ^^  as  well  as       -which  He  has 

.    .  .        1  1       I,      1         t  •        1  quickened  in 

time  :  and  how  should  all  the  kmgdoms  ^j^^  ^^^^^ 
of  a  world  that  must  soon  pass  content  Ch.  iii.,  v.  n. 
those  who  are  to  live  for  ever  ?  '  This  saying,  "  God 
has  put  eternity  into  their  hearts,"  is  one  of  the  most 
profound  in  the  whole  Book,  and  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  suggestive.  What  it  means  is  that,  even  if  a  man 
would  confine  his  aims  and  desires  within  "  the  bounds 
and  coasts  of  Time,"  he  cannot  do  it.  The  very 
structure  of  his  nature  forbids  it.  For  time,  with  all 
that  it  inherits,  sweeps  by  him  like  a  torrent,  so  that, 
if  he  would  secure  any  lasting  good,  he  must  lay  hold 
of  that  which  is  eternal.  We  may  well  call  this  world, 
for  all  so  solid  as  it  looks,  "a  perishing  world  ; "  for, 
like  our  own  bodies,  it  is  in  a  perpetual  flux,  perishing 
every  moment  that  it  may  live  a  little  longer,  and  must 

>  M.  de  Lamennais — the  founder  of  the  most  religious  school 
of  thinkers  in  modern  France,  from  whom  such  men  as  Count 
Montalembert,  Pere  Lacordaire,  and  Maurice  Guerin,  drew  their 
earliest  inspiration — asks,  "  Do  j'ou  know  what  it  is  that  makes 
man  the  most  suffering  of  all  creatures  ?  "  and  replies,  "  It  is  that 
he  has  one  foot  in  the  finite  and  the  other  in  the  ittfinite,  and  that 
he  is  torn  asunder,  not  by  four  horses,  as  in  the  horrible  old  times, 
but  between  two  worlds" 


SECOND  SECTION.  183 

soon  come  to  an  end.  But  we,  in  our  true  selves,  we 
who  dwell  inside  the  body  and  use  its  members  as  the 
workman  uses  his  tools,  how  can  we  find  a  satisfying 
good  whether  in  the  body  or  in  the  world  which  is  akin  to 
it  ?  We  want  a  good  as  lasting  as  ourselves.  Nothing 
short  of  that  can  be  our  chief  good,  or  inspire  us  with 
a  true  content. 

"  Like  as  the  waves  make  towards  the  pebbled  shore, 
So  do  our  minutes  hasten  to  their  end  ; 
Each  changing  place  with  that  which  goes  before, 
In  sequent  toil  all  forwards  do  contend  :  " 

and  we  might  as  well  think  to  build  a  stable  habitation 
on  the  waves  which  break  upon  the  pebbled  shore  as 
to  find  an  enduring  good  in  the  sequent  minutes  which 
carry  us  down  the  stream  of  time.  It  is  only  because 
we  do  not  understand  this  "  work  of  God  "  in  putting 
eternity  into  our  hearts  and  therefore  making  it  im- 
possible for  us  to  be  content  with  anything  less  than 
an  eternal  good  ;  it  is  because,  plunged  in  the  flesh  and 
its  cares  and  delights,  we  forget  the  grandeur  of  our 
nature,  and  are  tempted  to  sell  our  immortal  birthright 
for  a  mess  of  pottage  which,  however  much  we  enjoy 
it  to-day,  will  leave  us  hungry  to-morrow  :  it  is  only,  I 
say,  because  we  fail  to  understand  this  work  of  God 
"  from  beginning  to  end,"  that  we  ever  delude  ourselves 
with  the  hope  of  finding  in  ought  the  earth  yields  a 
good  in  which  we  can  rest. 


i84  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

(b)  A  noble  philosophy  this,  and  pregnant  with 
practical  counsels  of  great  value.     For  if,         Practical 

as  we  close   our    study   of   this   Section -of  Maxims  de- 

duced froyn  this 

the  Book,  we  ask,    "What  good  advice         viewo/tke 
does  the  Preacher  offer  that  we  can  take       Business-ufc. 
and  act  upon  ?  "  we  shall  find  that  he  gives  us  at  least 
three  serviceable  maxims. 

To  all  men  of  business  conscious  of  their  special 
dangers  and  anxious  to  avoid  them,  he  says,  first : 
Replace    the    competition   which    springs      ^  Maxim  on 

.  .  Co-operation, 

from  your  jealous  and  selfish  rivalry,  with        ,„    . 

•'  •>  -^ '  Cn.  IV.,  vv. 

the  co-operation  which  is  born  of  sym-  9-16. 

pathy  and  breeds  goodwill.  "  Two  are  better  than  one. 
Union  is  better  than  isolation.  Conjoint  labour  has 
the  greater  reward."  Instead  of  seeking  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  your  neighbours,  try  to  help  them.  Instead 
of  standing  alone,  associate  with  your  fellows.  Instead 
of  aiming  at  purely  selfish  ends,  pursue  your  ends  in 
common.  Indeed  the  wise  Hebrew  Preacher  anticipates 
the  golden  rule  to  a  remarkable  extent,  and,  in  effect, 
bids  us  love  our  neighbour  as  ourself,  look  on  his 
things  as  well  as  our  own,  and  do  to  all  men  as  we 
would  that  they  should  do  to  us. 

His  second  maxim  is  :  Replace  the  formality  of  your 
worship    with    a    reverent   and    steadfast       ^  Maxim  on 
sincerity.     Keep  your  foot  when  you  go  Worship. 

to    the    House    of  God.      Put   obedience  •    '     • 


SECOND  SECTION.  185 

before  sacrifice.  Do  not  hurry  on  your  mouth  to  the 
utterance  of  words  which  transcend  the  desires  of 
your  heart.     Be  not  of  those  who 

"  words  for  virtue  take, 
As  though  mere  wood  a  shrine  would  make." ' 

Do  not  come  into  the  Temple  with  a  pre-occupied 
spirit,  a  spirit  distracted  with  thoughts  that  travel 
different  ways.  Realise  the  presence  of  the  Great 
King,  and  speak  to  Him  with  the  reverence  due  to  a 
King,  Keep  the  vows  you  have  made  in  his  House 
after  you  have  left  it.  Seek  and  serve  Him  with  all 
your  hearts,  and  ye  shall  find  rest  to  your  souls. 

And  his  last  maxim  is  :  Replace  your  grasping  self- 
sufficiency  with  a  constant  trust  in  the  fatherly  provi- 
dence of  God.     If  you  see  oppression  or 

A  Maxim  on 

suffer  wrong,  if  your  schemes  are  thwarted  Trust  in  God. 
and  your  enterprises  fail,  you  need  not  Ch.  v.,vv.  8-17. 
therefore  lose  the  quiet  repose  and  settled  peace  which 
spring  from  a  sense,  of  duty  discharged  and  the  un- 
disturbed possession  of  the  main  good  of  life.  God 
is  over  all,  and  rules  all  the  undertakings  of  man, 
giving  each  its  season  and  place,  and  causing  all  to 
work  together  for  the  good  of  the  loving  and  trustful 

1  Horace,  Ep.  6,  Lib.  I  : 

"Virtutem  verba  putant,  ut 
Lucum  ligna." 


i86  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

heart.  Trust  in  Him,  and  you  shall  feel,  even  though 
you  cannot  prove, 

"  That  every  cloud  that  spreads  above, 
And  veileth  love,  itself  is  love." 

Trust  in  Him,  and  you  shall  find  that 

"  The  slow  sweet  hours  that  bring  us  all  things  good, 
The  slow  sad  hours  that  bring  us  all  things  ill 
And  all  good  things  from  evil," 

as  they  strike  on  the  great  horologe  of  Time,  are  set 
to  a  growing  music  by  the  hand  of  God ;  a  music 
which  rises  and  falls  as  we  listen,  but  which  neverthe- 
less swells  through  all  its  saddest  cadences  and  dying 
falls  toward  that  harmonious  close,  that  "undisturbed 
concent,"  in  which  all  discords  will  be  drowned. 


THIRD   SECTION. 

THE  QUEST  OF  THE  CHIEF  GOOD  IN  WEALTH, 
AND  IN  THE  GOLDEN  MEAN. 

Chaps.  VI.,  VII.,  and  VIII.,  w.   1-15. 

T  N  the  foregoing  Section  Coheleth  has  shown  that 
-*-  the  Chief  Good  is  not  to  be  found  in  that  Devotion 
to  the  affairs  of  Business  which  was,  and  still  is,  cha- 
racteristic of  the  Hebrew  race.  This  devotion  is 
commonly  inspired  either  by  the  desire  to  amass  great 
wealth,  for  the  sake  of  the  status,  influence,  and  means 
of  lavish  enjoyment  it  is  assumed  to  confer  ;  or  by  the 
more  modest  desire  to  secure  a  competence,  to  stand 
in  that  golden  mean  of  comfort  which  is  darkened  by 
no  harassing  fears  of  future  penury  or  need.  By  a 
logical  sequence  of  thought,  therefore,  he  advances 
from  his  discussion  on  Devotion  to  Business,  to  con- 
sider the  leading  motives  by  which  it  is  inspired.  The 
questions  he  now  asks  and  answers  are,  in  effect, 
(i)  Will  Wealth  confer  the  good,  the  tranquil  and 
enduring  satisfaction  which  men  seek  ?  And  if  not,  (2) 
Will  that  moderate  provision  for  the  present  and  for 
the  future  to  which  the  more  prudent  restrict  their  aim  ? 


i88  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

His    discussion    of    the    first    of    these    questions, 
although  very  matterful,  is  comparatively  brief;  in  part, 
perhaps,  because  in  the  previous  Section       -p,   r,    t  ■ 
he    has    already    dwelt   on   many  of  the  Wealth. 

drawbacks  which  accompany  wealth  ;  and  ^^^'  '^'• 

still  more,  probably,  because,  while  there  are  but  few 
men  in  any  age  to  whom  great  wealth  is  possible,  there 
would  be  unusually  few  in  the  company  of  poor  men 
for  whose  instruction  he  wrote.  Brief  and  simple  as 
the  discussion  is,  however,  we  shall  misapprehend  it 
unless  we  bear  in  mind  that  Coheleth  is  arguing,  not 
against  wealth,  but  against  mistaking  wealth  for  the 
Chief  Good. 

Let  us  observe,  then,  that  throughout  this  sixth 
Chapter  the  Preacher  is  dealing  with  the  lover  of  riches, 
not  with  the  rich  man  ;  that  he  is  speak-      The  Man  roho 

'})icikcs  Riches 

ing,  not  against  wealth,  but  against  mis-  ^  .^  chief  Good 
taking  wealth  for  the  Chief  Good.  The  is  haunted  by 
man  who  trusts  in  riches  is  placed  before  ^,    .,. 

'^  flexities : 

us  ;  and,  that  we  may  see  him  at  his  best,  ch.  vi.,  w.  i-6. 
he  has  the  riches  in  which  he  trusts.  God  has  given 
him  "  his  good  things,"  given  him  them  to  the  full. 
He  lacks  nothing  that  he  desireth — nothing  at  least 
that  wealth  can  command.  Yet,  because  he  does  not 
accept  his  abundance  as  the  gift  of  God,  and  hold  the 
Giver  better  than  the  gift,  he  cannot  enjoy  it.  But 
how  do  we  know  that  he  has  suffered  his  riches  to  take 


THIRD  SECTION. 


an   undue  place  in  his  regard  ?     We  know  it  by  this 
sure  token — that  he  cannot  leave  God  to  take  care  of 
them,   and  of  him.     He  frets  about  them,  and  about 
what  will  become  of  them  when  he  is  gone.      He  has 
no  son,  perchance,  to  inherit  them,  no  child,  only  some 
"stranger"  whom  he  has  adopted  (ver.  2) — and  almost 
all  childless  Orientals  adopt  strangers  to  this  day,  as 
we    have   found,    to   our  cost,  in    India.     A    profound 
horror  at  the  thought  of  being  dead  to  name  and  fame 
and  use  through  lack  of  heirs  was,  and  is,  very  preva- 
lent in  the  East.     Even  faithful  Abraham,  when  God 
had   promised  him  the  supreme  good,  broke  out  with 
the  remonstrance,   "What  canst  Thou  give  me  when 
I    am   going   off  childless,  and  have  no   heir  but  my 
body-servant,  Eliezer  of  Damascus  ?  "     Because  this 
feeling  lay  close  to  the  Oriental  heart,  the  Preacher  is 
at   some  pains   to  show  what  a   "  vanity  "  it  is.     He 
argues  :  "  Even  if  you  should  beget  a  hundred  children, 
instead   of  being    childless ;  even   though   you   should 
live  a  thousand  years,  and  the  grave  did  not  wait  for 
you  instead  of  lying  close  before  you  :  yet,  so  long  as 
you  were  not  content  to  leave  your  riches  in  the  hands 
of  God,  you  would  fret  and  perplex  yourself  with  fears. 
An    abortion  would  be  better  off  than   you,  although 
it  Cometh  in  nothingness  and  goeth  in  darkness ;  for 
it  would  know  a  rest  denied  to  you,  and  sink  without 
apprehension    into    the    '  place '    from  which    all    your 


igo  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

apprehensions  cannot  save  you  (vv.  3-6).  Foolish 
man  !  it  is  not  because  you  lack  an  heir  that  you  are 
perturbed  in  spirit.  If  you  had  one,  you  would  find 
some  other  cause  for  care ;  you  would  be  none  the 
less  fretted  and  perturbed  ;  for  you  would  still  be 
thinking  of  your  riches  rather  than  of  the  God  who 
gave  them,  and  still  dread  the  moment  in  which  you 
must  part  with  them,  in  order  to  return  to  Him," 

From  this  plain  practical  argument  Coheleth  passes 
to  an  argument  of  more  philosophic  reach.  "  All  the 
labour  of  this  man  is  for  his  mouth  :^'     For  God  has  put 

Eternity  into 

that  is  to  say,  his  wealth,  with  all  that  ms Heart- 
it  commands,  appeals  only  to  sense  and  Ch.vi.,w,7-io. 
appetite ;  it  feeds  "  the  lust  of  the  eye,  or  the  lust  of 
the  flesh,  or  the  pride  of  life,"  and  therefore  "  his  soul 
cannot  be  satisfied  therewith "  (ver.  7).  That  craves 
a  higher  nutriment,  a  more  enduring  good.  God  has 
put  eternity  into  it  :  and  how  can  that  which  is 
immortal  be  contented  with  the  lucky  haps  and  com- 
fortable conditions  of  time  ?  Unless  some  immortal 
provision  be  made  for  the  immortal  spirit,  it  will  pine, 
and  protest,  and  crave,  till  all  power  of  happily  enjoying 
outward  good  be  lost.  Nay,  if  the  spirit  in  man  be 
craving  and  unfed,  whatever  his  outward  conditions, 
or  his  faculty  for  enjoying  them,  he  cannot  be  at  rest. 
The  wise  man  may  be  able  to  extract  from  the  gains 
of  time  a  pleasure  denied  to  the  fool ;  and  the  poor 


THIRD  SECTION.  191 


man,  his  penury  preventing  him  from  indulging  passion 
and  appetite  to  satiety,  may  have  a  keener  enjoyment 
of  them  than  the  magnate  who  has  tried  them  to  the 
full  and  has  grown  weary  of  them.  In  a  certain  sense, 
as  compared  the  one  with  the  other,  the  poor  man  may 
have  an  "  advantage  "  over  the  rich,  and  the  wise  man 
over  the  fool ;  for  "  it  is  better  to  enjoy  the  good  we 
have  than  to  crave  a  good  beyond  our  reach  ;  "  and 
this  much  the  wise  man,  or  even  the  poor  man,  may 
achieve.  Yet,  after  all,  what  advantage  have  they  ? 
The  thirst  of  the  soul  is  still  unslaked ;  no  sensual  or 
sensuous  enjoyment  can  satisfy  that.  All  human  action 
and  enjoyment  is  under  law  to  God.  No  one  is  so 
wise,  or  so  strong,  as  to  contend  successfully  against 
Him  or  his  ordinances.  And  it  is  He  who  has  given 
men  an  immortal  nature,  with  cravings  that  wander 
through  eternity ;  it  is  He  who  has  ordained  that  they 
shall  know  no  rest  until  they  rest  in  Him  (vv.  8-10). 
Look  once  more  at  your  means  and  possessions. 
Multiply  them  as  you  will.  Still  there  are  many 
reasons  why  if  you  seek  your  chief  good        And  muck 

,  .,  Ill  -i  J         that  he  mins 

in  them,  they  should  prove  vanity  and  ,    f"  ^ 

'  -'  '■  ''  only  feeds 

breed  vexation  of  spirit.      One   is,   that  Vanity.- 

beyond  a  certain  point  you  can  neither  ^''^-  ^^■'  '^■-  ^^• 
use  nor  enjoy  them.  They  add  to  your  pomp.  They 
enable  you  to  fill  a  larger  place  in  the  world's  eye. 
They  swell  and  magnify  the  vain  show  in  which  you 


192  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

walk.  But,  after  all,  they  add  to  your  discomfort 
rather  than  your  comfort.  You  have  so  much  the  more 
to  manage,  and  look  after,  and  take  care  of:  but  you 
yourself,  instead  of  being  better  off  than  you  were, 
have  only  taken  a  heavier  task  on  your  hands.  And 
what  advantage  is  there  in  that  ? 

Another  reason  is,  that  it  is  hard,  so  hard  as  to 
be  impossible,  for  you  to  know  "  what  it  is  good  "  for 
you  to  have.  That  on  which  you  have  ^^-^^^^^  ^^^^^  ,^^ 
set  your  heart  may  prove  to  be  an  evil        ^^'^  '^^'^'^^  it 

tv  ill  be  good 

rather  than  a  good  when  at  last  you  get        for  him  to 
it.     The  fair  fruit,  so  pleasant  and  desir-  -'^^z'^, 

able  to  the  eye  that,   to  possess  it,  you  ^'  ^'■'  ^'  ^^' 

were  content  to  labour  and  deny  yourself  for  years, 
may  turn  to  an  apple  of  Sodom  in  your  mouth,  and 
yield  you,  in  place  of  sweet  pulp  and  juice,  only  the 
bitter  ashes  of  disappointment. 

And  a  third  reason  is,   that    the  more  you   acquire 
the  more  you   must   dispose  of  when  you  are   called 
away   from  this   life  :    and   who  can  tell         Nor  foresee 
what  shall  be  after  him  ?     How  are  you        '"^'^^  "^'^^ _ 

become  of  his 

SO  to  dispose  of  your  gains  as  to  be  sure  Gains. 

that  they  will  do  good  and  not  harm,  and  ^h.  vi.,  v.  12. 
carry  comfort  to  the  hearts  of  those  whom  you  love, 
and  not  breed  envy,  alienation,  and  strife  ? 

These  are  the  Preacher's  arguments  against  an  undue 
love  of  riches,  against  making  them  so  dear  a  good  that 


THIRD  SECTION.  193 


we  can  neither  enjoy  them  while  we  have  them,  nor 
trust  them  to  the  disposal  of  God  when  we  must  leave 
them  behind  us.  Are  they  not  sound  arguments  ? 
Should  we  be  saddened  by  them,  or  comforted  ?  We 
can  only  be  saddened  by  them  if  we  love  wealth,  or 
long  for  it,  with  an  inordinate  desire.  If  we  can  trust 
in  God  to  give  us  all  that  it  will  be  really  good  for  us 
to  have  in  return  for  our  honest  toil,  the  arguments  of 
the  Preacher  are  full  of  comfort  and  hope  for  us,  whether 
we  be  rich  or  whether  we  be  poor. 


There  be  many  that  say,  "  Who  will  show  us  any 
gold  ? "  mistaking  gold   for  their  god   or  good.      For 
though  there  can   be  few  in  any  age  to       The  Quest  in 
whom  great  wealth  is  possible,  there  are         ^''^  Golden 

Mean. 

many   who  crave   it  and  believe  that  to       q^  ^,;j   yij; 
have  it  is  to  possess  the  supreme  felicity.  "^v.  1-15. 

It  is  not  only  the  rich  who  ^' trust  in  riches."  As  a 
rule,  perhaps,  they  trust  in  them  less  than  the  poor, 
since  they  have  tried  them,  and  know  pretty  exactly 
both  how  much,  and  how  little,  they  can  do.  It  is 
those  who  have  not  tried  them,  and  to  whom  poverty 
brings  many  undeniable  hardships,  who  are  most  sorely 
tempted  to  trust  in  them  as  the  sovereign  remedy  for 
the  ills  of  life.  So  that  the  counsels  of  the  sixth 
chapter  may  have  a  wider  scope  than  we  sometimes 

13 


194  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

think  they  have.  But,  whether  they  apply  to  many 
or  to  few,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  counsels  of 
the  seventh  and  eighth  chapters  are  applicable  to  the 
vast  majority  of  men.  For  here  the  Preacher  discusses 
the  Golden  Mean  in  which  most  of  us  would  like  to 
stand.  Man}'  of  us  dare  not  ask  for  great  wealth  lest 
it  should  prove  a  burden  we  could  very  hardly  bear ; 
but  we  have  no  scruple  in  adopting  Agur's  prayer, 
"  Give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches  ;  Feed  me  with 
food  proportioned  to  my  need  :  Let  me  have  a  com- 
fortable competence  in  which  I  shall  be  at  an  equal 
remove  from  the  temptations  whether  of  extreme  wealth 
or  of  extreme  penury." 

Now  the  endeavour  to  secure  a  competence  may  be, 
not  lawful  only,  but  most  laudable  ;  since  God  means 
us  to  make  the  best  of  the  capacities  He  has  given  us 
and  the  opportunities  He  sends  us.  Nevertheless,  we 
may  pursue  this  right  end  from  a  wrong  motive,  in 
a  wrong  spirit.  Both  spirit  and  motive  are  wrong  if 
we  pursue  our  competence  as  if  it  were  a  good  so  great 
that  we  can  know  no  content  unless  we  attain  it.  For 
what  is  it  that  animates  such  a  pursuit  save  distrust 
in  the  providence  of  God  ?  Left  in  his  hands,  we  do 
not  feel  that  we  should  be  safe ;  whereas  if  we  had  our 
fortune  in  our  own  hands,  and  were  secured  against 
chances  and  changes  by  a  few  comfortable  securities, 
we  should  feel  safe  enough.     This  feeling  is,  surely. 


THIRD  SECTION.  195 


very  general :  we  are  all  of  us  in  danger  of  slipping 
into  this  form  of  unquiet  distrust  in  the  fatherly 
providence  of  God. 

Because  the  feeling  is  both  general  and  strong,  the 
Hebrew    Preacher    addresses    himself    to    it    at    some 
length.-      His    object    now    is    to    place      j^,^^  ^^^^^^^^  ^j- 
before  us  a  man  who   does   not   aim   at       *'^>^  -^^'^'^  '^"ho 
great  affluence,  but,  guided  by  prudence        comuience 
and  common  sense,   makes  it  his   ruling  Ch.vii., 

aim   to   stand  well    with  his    neighbours  ^^'  ^'^^' 

and  to  lay  by  a  moderate  provision  for  future  wants. 
The  Preacher  opens  the  discussion  by  stating  the 
maxims  or  rules  of  conduct  by  which  such  an  one 
would  be  apt  to  guide  himself.  One  of  his  first  aims 
would  be  to  secure  "  a  good  name,"  since  that  would 
prepossess  men  in  his  favour,  and  open  before  him 
many  avenues  which  would  otherwise  be  closed.^ 
Just  as  one  entering  a  crowded  Oriental  room  with 
some  choice  fragrance  exhaling  from  person  and  apparel 
would  find  bright  faces  turned  toward  him,  and  a  ready 
way  opened  for  his  approach,  so  the  bearer  of  a  good 
name  would  find  many  willing  to  meet  him,  and  traffic 
with  him,  and  heed  him.  As  the  years  passed,  his  good 
name,  if  he  kept  it,  would  diff'use  itself  over  a  wider 

1  "  There  are  three  crowns  ;  of  the  law,  the  priesthood,  and 
the  kingship  :  but  the  crown  of  a  good  name  is  greater  than  them 
all." — Talmud. 


196  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

area  with  a  more  pungent  effect,  so  that  the  day  of  his 
death  would  be  better  than  the  day  of  his  birth — to 
leave  a  good  name  being  so  much  more  honourable 
than  to  inherit  one  (chap,  vii.,  ver.  i). 

But  how  would  he  go  about  to  acquire  his  good 
name  ?  Again  the  answer  carries  us  back  to  the  East. 
Nothing  is  more  striking  to  a  Western  traveller  than 
the  dignified  gravity  of  the  superior  Oriental  races. 
In  public  they  rarely  smile,  almost  never  laugh,  and 
hardly  ever  express  surprise.  Cool,  courteous,  self- 
possessed,  they  bear  good  news  or  bad,  prosperous  or 
adverse  fortune,  with  a  proud  equanimity.  This  equal 
mind,  expressing  itself  in  a  grave  dignified  bearing, 
is,  with  them,  well-nigh  indispensable  to  success  in 
public  life.  And,  therefore,  our  friend  in  quest  of  a 
good  name  betakes  himself  to  the  house  of  mourning 
rather  than  to  the  house  of  feasting;  he  holds  that 
serious  thought  on  the  end  of  all  men  is  better  than  the 
wanton  foolish  mirth  which  crackles  like  thorns  under 
a  kettle,  making  a  great  sputter,  but  soon  going  out ; 
and  would  rather  have  his  heart  bettered  by  the  reproof 
of  the  wise  than  listen  to  the  song  of  fools  over  the 
wine-cup  (vv.  2-6).  Knowing  that  he  cannot  be 
much  with  fools  without  sharing  their  folly,  fearing 
that  they  may  lead  him  into  those  excesses  in  which 
the  wisest  mind  is  infatuated  and  the  kindest  heart 
hardened   and  corrupted   (ver.  7),   he   elects  rather  to 


THIRD  SECTION.  197 

walk  with  a  sad  countenance,  among  the  wise,  to  the 
house  of  mourning  and  meditation,  than  to  hurry  with 
fools    to    the    banquet    in   which  wine    and    song   and 
laughter  drown  serious  reflection,  and  leave  the  heart 
worse    than    they  found    it.      What    though    the  wise 
reprove    him   when    he   errs  ?       What    though,    as   he 
listens  to  their  reproof,  his  heart  at  times  grows  hot 
within  him  ?     The  end  of  their  reproof  is  better  than 
the  beginning  (ver.  8)  ;  as  he  reflects  upon  it,  he  learns 
from  it,  profits  by  it,  and  by  patient  endurance  of  it 
wins  a  good  from  it  which  haughty  resentment  would 
have  cast  away.      Unlike  the  fools,   therefore,   whose 
wanton'mirth  turns  into  bitter  anger  at  the  mere  sound 
of  reproof,  he  will  not  suffer  his  spirit  to  be  hurried 
into    a    hot    resentment,    but   will    compel    that  which 
injures   them   to  do  him   good   (ver.  9).     Nor  will  he 
rail  even  at  the  fools  who  fleet  the  passing  hour,  or 
account  that,   because  they  are  so  many  and  so  bold, ' 
"  the  time  is  out  of  joint."     He  will  show  himself  not 
only  wiser  than  the  foolish,   but  wiser  than  many  of 
the  wise  ;  for  while  they — and  here  surely  the  Preacher 
hits   a  very   common   habit   of   the    studious  hfe — are 
disposed    to    look    fondly  back  on  some    past    age  as 
greater  or  happier  than  that  in  which  they  live,   and 
ask,    "  I  low   is  it   that   former  days  were  better  than 
these  ?  "    he   will  conclude   that   the   question    springs 
rather  from  their  querulousness  than  from  their  wisdom. 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


and  make  the  best  of  the  time,  and  of  the  conditions 
of  the  time,  in  which  it  has  pleased  God  to  place  him 
(ver.  lo). 

But  if  any  ask,  "  Why  has  he  renounced  the  pursuit 
of  that  wealth  on  which  many  are  bent  who  are  less 
capable  of  using  it  than  he  ?  "  the  answer  comes  that 
he  has  discovered  Wisdom  to  be  as  good  as  Wealth,  and 
even  better.  Not  only  is  Wisdom  as  secure  a  defence 
against  the  ills  of  life  as  Wealth,  but  it  has  this  great 
advantage — that  "  it  fortifies  or  vivifies  the  heart," 
while  wealth  often  burdens  and  enfeebles  it.  Wisdom 
quickens  and  braces  the  spirit  for  any  fortune,  gives  it 
new  life  or  new  strength,  inspires  an  inward  serenity 
which  does  not  lie  at  the  mercy  of  outward  accidents 
(vv.  II,  12).  It  teaches  a  man  to  regard  all  the  con- 
ditions of  life  as  ordained  and  shaped  by  God,  and 
weans  him  from  the  vain  endeavour,  on  which  many 
exhaust  their  strength,  to  straighten  that  which  God 
has  made  crooked,  that  which  crosses  and  thwarts  his 
inclinations  (ver.  13);  once  let  him  see  that  the  thing 
is  crooked,  and  was  meant  to  be  crooked,  and  he  will 
accept  and  adapt  himself  to  it,  instead  of  wearying 
himself  in  futile  attempts  to  make,  or  to  think,  it 
straight. 

And  there  is  one  very  good  reason  why  God  should 
permit  many  crooks  in  our  lot,  very  good  reason  there- 
fore  why   a  wise   man  should  look   on   them  with  an 


THIRD  SECTION.  199 


equal  mind.  For  God  sends  the  crooked  as  well  as 
the  straight,  adversity  as  well  as  prosperity,  in  order 
that  we  should  know  that  He  has  "  made  this  as  well 
as  /Aa/,"  and  accept  both  from  his  benign  hand.  He 
interlaces  his  providences,  and  veils  his  providences,  in 
order  that,  unable  to  foresee  the  future,  we  may  learn 
to  put  our  trust  in  Him  rather  than  in  any  earthly  good 
(ver.  14).  It  therefore  behoves  a  man  whose  heart  has 
been  bettered  by  much  meditation,  and  by  the  reproofs 
of  the  wise,  to  take  both  crooked  and  straight,  both  evil 
and  good,  from  the  hand  of  God,  and  to  trust  in  Him 
whatever  may  befall.^ 

So  far,  I  think,  we  shall  follow  and  assent  to  this 
theory  of  human  life ;  our  sympathies  will  go  with  the 
man  who  seeks  to  acquire  a  good  name.       The  Perils  to 

to   grow    wise,    to    stand  in    the    Golden        -'^^'iich  a  ex- 
poses him. 
Mean,     But  when   he  proceeds  to  apply      ch.  vii..v.  i^;- 

his  theory,  to  deduce  practical  rules  from  Ch.  viii. ,  v.  13. 
it,  we  can  only  give  him  a  qualified  assent,  -nay, 
must  often  altogether  withhold  our  assent.     The  main 


1  So  in  the  hymn  of  Cleanthes  to  Zeus,  as  rendered  by  the 
Dean  of  Wells : 

"  Thou  alone  knowest  how  to  change  the  odd 
To  even,  and  to  make  the  crooked  straight ; 
And  things  discordant  find  accord  in  Thee. 
Thus  in  one  whole  Thou  blendest  ill  with  good. 
So  that  one  law  works  on  for  evermore.'' 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


conclusion  he  draws  is,  indeed,  quite  unobjectionable  : 
it  is,  that  in  action,  as  well  as  in  opinion,  we  should 
avoid  excess,  that  we  should  keep  the  happy  mean 
between  intemperance  and  indifference. 

But  the  very  first  moral  he  infers  from  this  con- 
clusion is  open  to  the  most  serious  objection.  He 
has  seen  both  the  righteous  die  in  his  He  is  likely  to 
righteousness    without   receiving  any  re-         compromise 

Conscience  : 

ward    from  it,  and   the  wicked  live  long        ^j,  ^jj   ^^^ 
in  his  wickedness  to  enjoy  his  ill-gotten  ^S-20. 

gains.  And  from  these  two  mysterious  facts,  which 
much  exercised  many  of  the  Prophets  and  Psalmists  of 
Israel,  he  infers  that  a  prudent  man  will  neither  be  very 
righteous,  since  he  will  gain  nothing  by  it,  and  may 
lose  the  friendship  of  those  who  are  content  with  the 
current  morality ;  nor  very  wicked,  since,  though  he 
may  lose  little  by  this  so  long  as  he  lives,  he  will  very 
surely  hasten  his  death  (vv.  16,  17).  It  is  the  part 
of  prudence  to  lay  hold  on  both ;  to  permit  a  tem- 
perate indulgence  both  in  virtue  and  in  vice,  carrying 
neither  to  excess  (ver.  18) — a  doctrine  still  very  dear 
to  the  mere  man  of  the  world.  In  this  temperance 
there  lies  a  strength  greater  than  that  of  an  army  in 
a  beleaguered  city  ;  for  no  righteous  man  is  wholly 
righteous  (vv.  19,  20)  :  to  aim  at  so  lofty  an  ideal 
will  be  to  attempt  "  to  wind  ourselves  too  high  for 
mortal  man  below  the  sky  ;  "  we  shall  only  fail  if  we 


THIRD  SECTION. 


make  the  attempt ;  we  shall  be  grievously  disappointed 
if  we  expect  other  men  to  succeed  where  we  have 
failed  ;  we  shall  lose  faith  in  them,  and  in  ourselves  ; 
we  shall  suffer  many  pangs  of  shame,  remorse,  and 
defeated  hope  :  and,  therefore,  it  is  well  at  once  to  make 
up  our  minds  that  we  are,  and  need  be,  no  better  than 
our  neighbours,  that  we  are  not  to  blame  ourselves 
for  customary  and  occasional  slips  ;  that,  if  we  are  but 
moderate,  we  may  lay  one  hand  on  righteousness  and 
another  on  wickedness  without  taking  much  harm.  A 
most  immoral  moral,  though  it  is  as  popular  to-day  as 
it  ever  was. 

The  second  rule  which  this  temperate  Monitor  infers 
from  his  general  theory  is,  That  we  are  not  to  be  over- 
much troubled  by  what  people  say  about        To  be  indif- 

us.     Servants  are  adduced  as  an  illustra-      firent  to  Cen- 
sure : 
tion,  partly,  no  doubt,  because  they  are        ^^  ^,jj  ^^ 

commonly  acquainted  with  their  masters'  21,22. 

faults,   and  partly   because   they   do   sometimes   speak 

about  them,  and  even  exaggerate    them.     "  Let    them 

speak,"  is  his  counsel,   "  and   don't  be  too  curious  to 

know  what  they  say  ;  you  may  be  sure  that  they  will 

say  pretty  much  what  you  often  say  of  your  neighbours 

or  superiors  ;  if  they   depreciate   you,   you   depreciate 

others,   and  you  can   hardly  expect  a  more  generous 

treatment  than  you  accord."     Now  if  this  moral  stood 

alone,  it  would  be  both  shrewd  and  wholesome.     But 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


it  does  not  stand  alone ;  and  in  its  connection  it  means, 
I  fear,  that  if  we  take  the  moderate  course  prescribed 
by  worldly  prudence ;  if  we  are  righteous  without  being 
too  righteous,  and  wicked  without  being  too  wicked, 
and  our  neighbours  should  begin  to  say,  "  He  is  hardly 
so  good  as  he  seems,"  or  "  I  could  tell  a  tale  of  him  an 
if  I  would,"  we  are  not  to  be  greatly  moved  by  "  any 
such  ambiguous  givings  out ;  "  we  are  not  to  be  over- 
much concerned  that  our  neighbours  have  discovered 
our  secret  slips,  since  we  have  often  discovered  the  like 
slips  in  them,  and  know  very  well  that  "  there  is  riot 
on  earth  a  righteous  man  who  doeth  good  and  sinneth 
not,"  In  short,  as  we  are  not  to  be  too  hard  on  our- 
selves for  an  occasional  and  decorous  indulgence  in  vice, 
so  neither  are  we  to  be  very  much  vexed  by  the  cen- 
sures which  neighbours  as  guilty  as  ourselves  pass  on 
our  conduct.  Taken  in  this  its  connected  sense,  the 
moral  is  as  immoral  as  that  which  preceded  it. 

Here,  indeed,  our  prudent  Monitor  drops  a  hint  that 
he  himself  is  not  content  with  a  theory  which  leads  to 
such  results.  He  has  tried  this  "  wisdom,"  but  he  is 
not  satisfied  with  it.  He  desired  a  higher  wisdom, 
suspecting  that  there  must  be  a  nobler  theory  of  life 
than  this ;  but  it  was  too  far  away  for  him  to  reach, 
too  deep  for  him  to  fathom.  After  all  his  researches 
that  which  was  far  off  remained  far  off,  deep  remained 
deep  :  he  could  not  attain  the  higher  wisdom  he  sought 


THIRD  SECTION.  203 


(vv.  23,  24).  And  so  he  falls  back  on  the  wisdom  he 
had  tried,  and  draws  a  third  moral  from  it  which  is 
somewhat  difficult  to  handle. 

It  is  said  of  an  English  satirist  that  when  any  friend 
confessed  himself  in  trouble  and  asked  his  advice,  his 
first    question    was,    "  Who    is   she  ?  "—         ^'^  '^^■^/"^ 

lVo?ncn  : 

taking  it^or  granted  that  a  woman  must        ^^  ^.. 
be  at  the  bottom  of  the  mischief.     And  25-29. 

the  Hebrew  cynic  appears  to  have  been  of  his  mind. 
He  cannot  but  see  that  the  best  of  men  sin  sometimes, 
that  even  the  most  temperate  are  hurried  into  excesses 
which  their  prudence  condemns.  And  when  he  turns 
to  discover  what  it  is  that  bewitches  them,  he  finds  no 
other  solution  of  the  mystery  than — Woman.  Sweet 
and  pleasant  as  she  seems,  she  is  "  more  bitter  than 
death,"  her  heart  is  a  snare,  her  hands  are  chains.  He 
whom  God  loves  will  escape  from  her  net  after  brief 
captivity  ;  only  the  fool  and  the  sinner  are  held  fast  in 
it  (vv.  25,  26).  Nor  is  this  a  hasty  conclusion.  Our 
Hebrew  cynic  has  deliberately  gone  out,  with  the 
lantern  of  his  wisdom  in  his  hand,  to  search  for  an 
honest  man  and  an  honest  woman.  He  has  been 
scrupulously  careful  in  his  search,  "taking  things,"  i.e. 
indications  of  character,  "  one  by  one  ;  "  but  though  he 
has  found  one  honest  man  in  a  thousand,  he  has  never 
lit  on  an  honest  and  good  woman  (vv.  27,  28).  Was 
not  the  fault  in  the  eyes  of  the  seeker  rather  than  in  the 


204  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

faces  into  which  he  peered  ?  Perhaps  it  was.  It  would 
be  to-day  and  here  ;  but  was  it  there  and  on  that  far- 
distant  yesterday  ?  The  Orientals  would  still  say  "  No." 
All  through  the  East,  from  the  hour  in  which  Adam 
cast  the  blame  of  his  disobedience  on  Eve  to  the  pre- 
sent hour,  men  have  followed  the  example  of  their  first 
father.  Even  St.  Chrysostom,  who  should  have  known 
better,  affirms  that  when  the  devil  took  from  Job  all  he 
had,  he  did  not  take  his  wife,  "  because  he  thought  she 
would  greatly  help  him  to  conquer  that  saint  of  God." 
Mohammed  sings  in  the  same  key  with  the  Christian 
Father  :  he  affirms  that  since  the  creation  of  the  world 
there  have  been  only  four  perfect  women,  though  it  a 
little  redeems  the  cynicism  of  his  speech  to  learn  that, 
of  these  four  perfect  women,  one  was  his  wife  and 
another  his  daughter;  for  the  good  man  may  have 
meant  a  compliment  to  them  rather  than  an  insult  to 
the  sex.  But  if  there  be  any  truth  in  this  estimate, 
if  in  the  East  the  women  were,  and  are,  worse  than  the 
men,  it  is  the  men  who  have  made  them  what  they  are.^ 
Robbed  of  their  natural  dignity  and  use  as  helpmeets, 
condemned  to  be  mere  toys,  trained  only  to  minister 
to  sense,  what  wonder  if  they  have  fallen  below  their 

1  Not,  however,  that  the  sentiment  was  confined  to  the  East. 
The  Greek  poets  have  many  such  sayings  as,  "  A  woman  is  a 
burden  full  of  ills ;  "  and,  "  Where  women  are,  all  evils  there  are 
found." 


THIRD  SECTION.  205 


due  place  and  honour  ?  Of  all  cowardly  cynicisms 
that  surely  is  the  meanest  which,  denying  women  any 
chance  of  being  good,  condemns  them  for  being  bad. 
Our  Hebrew  cynic  seems  to  have  had  some  faint  sense 
of  his  unfairness ;  for  he  concludes  his  tirade  against 
the  sex  with  the  admission  that  "  God  made  man  up- 
right"— the  word  "man"  here,  as  in  Genesis,  standing 
for  the  whole  race,  male  and  female — and  that  if  all 
women,  and  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  men  out 
of  ever}'  thousand,  have  become  bad,  it  is  because  they 
have  degraded  themselves  and  one  another  by  the  evil 
"  devices  "  they  have  sought  out  (ver.  29). 

The  fourth  and  last  rule  inferred  from  this  prudent 
moderate  view  of  life  is,  That  we  are  to  submit  with 
hopeful  resignation  to  the  wrongs  which       ^'"^  *"  ^^  ^^- 

different  to 

spring  from  human  tyranny  and  injustice.  PubUc 

Unclouded  by  gusts  of  passion,  the  wise  Wrongs. 

r~.    ■  1  •  //  1     •    1  ^h.  viii.,  vv. 

temperate     Oriental    carries    a     "  bright  ^ 

countenance "  to  the  king's  divan.  Though  the  king 
should  rate  him  with  "  evil  words,"  he  will  remember 
his  "oath  of  fealty,"  and  not  rise  up  in  resentment, 
still  less  rush  out  in  open  revolt.  He  knows  that 
the  word  of  a  king  is  potent ;  that  it  will  be  of  no  use 
to  show  a  hot  mutinous  temper;  that  by  a  meek  en- 
durance of  wrath  he  may  allay  or  avert  it.  He  knows, 
too,  that  obedience  and  submission  are  not  likely  to 
provoke  insult  and  contumely ;    and  that  if  now  and 


2o6  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

then  he  is  exposed  to  an  undeserved  insult,  any 
defence,  and  especially  an  angry  defence,  will  but 
damage  his  cause  (chap,  viii.,  vv.  1-5).  Moreover,  a 
man  Vi^ho  keeps  himself  cool  and  will  not  permit  anger 
to  blind  him  may,  in  the  worst  event,  foresee  that  a 
time  of  retribution  will  surely  come  on  the  king,  or  the 
satrap,  who  is  habitually  unjust ;  that  the  people  will 
revolt  from  him  and  exact  heavy  penalties  for  the 
wrongs  they  have  endured  ;  that  death,  "  that  fell 
arrest  without  all  bail,"  will  carry  him  away.  He  can 
see  that  time  of  retribution  drawing  nigh,  although  the 
tyrant,  fooled  by  impunity,  is  not  aware  of  its  approach  ; 
he  can  also  see  that  when  it  comes  it  will  be  as  a  war 
in  which  no  furlough  is  granted,  and  whose  disastrous 
close  no  craft  can  evade.  All  this  execution  of  long- 
delayed  justice  he  has  seen  again  and  again ;  and 
therefore  he  will  not  suffer  his  resentment  to  hurry 
him  into  dangerous  courses,  but  will  calmly  await  the 
action  of  those  social  laws  which  compel  every  man  to 
reap  the  due  reward  of  his  deeds  (vv.  $-9). 

Nevertheless  he  has  also  seen  times  in  which  retri- 
bution did  not  overtake  oppressors  ;  times  even  when, 
in  the  person  of  children  as  wicked  and  tyrannical  as 
themselves,  they  "came  again"  to  renew  their  injustice, 
and  to  blot  out  the  memory  of  the  righteous  from 
the  earth  (ver.  10).  And  such  times  have  no  more 
disastrous  result  than  this,  that  they  undermine  faith 


THIRD  SECTION.  207 


and  subvert  morality.  Men  see  that  no  immediate 
sentence  is  pronounced  against  the  wicked,  that  they 
live  long  in  their  wickedness  and  beget  children  to 
perpetuate  it ;  and  the  faith  of  the  good  in  the  over- 
ruling providence  of  God  is  shaken  and  strained,  while 
the  vast  majority  of  men  set  themselves  to  do  the  evil 
which  flaunts  its  triumphs  before  their  eyes  (ver.  11). 
None  the  less  the  Preacher  is  quite  sure  that  it  is  the 
part  of  wisdom  to  trust  in  the  laws  and  look  for  the 
judgments  of  God  :  he  is  quite  sure  that  the  triumph 
of  the  wicked  will  soon  pass,  while  that  of  the  good 
will  endure  (vv.  12,  13);  and  therefore,  as  a  man 
of  prudent  and  forecasting  spirit,  he  will  submit  to 
injustice,  but  not  inflict  it,  or  at  least  not  carry  it  to 
any  dangerous  excess. 

This  is  by  no  means  a  noble  or  lofty  view  of  human 
life ;  the  line  of  conduct  it  prescribes  is  often  as 
immoral  as  it  is  ignoble ;   and  we  may       '^^^^  Preacher 

cofidem?is  this 

feel    some    natural    surprise    at    hearing  Theory  of 

counsels    so    base    from    the    lips  of  the  Human  Life, 

inspired  Hebrew  Preacher.    But  we  ought  ^^^  q^^^^^  ^^ 

to  know  him,  and  his  method  of  instruc-  be  still unat- 
tion,  well  enough  by  this  time  to  be  sure 

Ch .  viii .,  vv. 

that   he   is   at   least  as  sensible   of  their  14, 15, 

baseness  as  we  can  be  ;  that  he  is  here  speaking  to  us 
not  in  his  own  person,  but  dramatically,  and  from  the 
lips  of  the  man  who,  that  he  may  secure  a  good  name 


2o8  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

and  an  easy  position  in  the  world,  is  disposed  to 
accommodate  himself  to  the  current  maxims  of  his  time 
and  company.  If  we  ever  had  any  doubt  on  this 
point,  it  is  set  at  rest  by  the  closing  verses  of  the 
Section  before  us.  For  in  these  verses  the  Preacher 
lowers  his  mask,  and  tells  us  plainly  that  we  cannot 
and  must  not  attempt  to  rest  in  the  theory  he  has  just 
put  before  us,  that  to  follow  out  its  practical  corollaries 
will  lead  us  away  from  the  Chief  Good,  not  toward  it. 
More  than  once  he  has  already  hinted  to  us  that  this 
"wisdom"  is  not  the  highest  wisdom;  and  now  he 
frankly  avows  that  he  is  as  unsatisfied  as  ever,  as  far 
as  ever  from  ending  his  Quest;  that  his  last  key  will  not 
unlock  those  mysteries  of  life  which  have  baffled  him 
from  the  first.  He  still  holds,  indeed,  that  it  is  better 
to  be  righteous  than  to  be  wicked,  though  he  now  sees 
that  even  the  prudently  righteous  often  have  a  wage  like 
that  of  the  wicked,  and  that  the  prudently  wicked  often 
have  a  wage  like  that  of  the  righteous  (ver.  14).  This 
new  theory  of  life,  therefore,  he  confesses  to  be  "  a 
vanity  "  as  great  and  deceptive  as  any  of  those  he  has 
hitherto  tried.  And  as  even  yet  it  does  not  suit  him 
to  give  us  his  true  theory  and  announce  his  final 
conclusion,  he  falls  back  on  the  conclusion  we  have  so 
often  heard,  that  the  best  thing  a  man  can  do  is  to  eat 
and  to  drink,  and  to  carry  a  clear  enjoying  temper 
through  all    the   days,   and  all  the    tasks,   which  God 


THIRD  SECTION.  209 


giveth  him  under  the  sun  (ver.  15).  How  this  famihar 
conclusion  fits  into  his  final  conclusion,  and  is  part  of 
it,  though  not  the  whole,  we  shall  see  in  our  study  of 
the  next  and  last  section  of  the  Book. 


II. — If,  as  Milton  sings, 

"To  know 
That  which  before  us  Hes  in  daily  hfe 
Is  the  prime  wisdom,'' 

we  are  surely  much  indebted  to  the  Hebrew  Preacher. 
He  does  not  "  sit  on  a  hill  apart "  discussing  fate, 
freewill,  foreknowledge  absolute,  or  any  lofty  abstruse 
theme.  He  walks  with  us,  in  the  common  round,  to 
the  daily  task,  and  talks  to  us  of  that  which  lies  before 
and  around  us  in  our  daily  life.  Nor  does  he  speak 
as  one  raised  high  above  the  folly  and  weakness  by 
which  we  are  constantly  betrayed.  He  has  trodden 
the  very  paths  we  tread.  He  shares  our  craving  and 
has  pursued  our  quest  after  "that  which  is  good." 
He  has  been  misled  by  the  illusions  by  which  we  are 
beguiled.  And  his  aim  is  to  save  us  from  fruitless 
researches  and  defeated  hopes  by  placing  his  experience 
at  our  command.  He  speaks,  therefore,  to  our  real 
need,  and  speaks  with  a  cordial  sympathy  which  renders 
his  counsel  very  welcome. 

We  are  so  made  that  we  can  find  no  rest  until  we 

14 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


find  a  supreme  Good,  a  Good  which  will  satisfy  all  our 
faculties,  passions,  aspirations.  For  tliis  we  search 
with  ardour ;  but  our  ardour  is  not  always  under  law 
to  wisdom.  We  often  assume  that  we  have  reached 
our  chief  Good  while  it  is  still  far  off,  or  that  we  are  at 
least  looking  for  it  in  the  right  direction  when  in  truth 
we  have  turned  our  back  upon  it.  Sometimes  we  seek 
for  it  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  sometimes  in  pleasure 
and  self-indulgence,  sometimes  in  fervent  devotion  to 
secular  affairs;  sometimes  in  love,  sometimes  in  wealth, 
and  sometimes  in  a  modest  yet  competent  provision 
for  our  future  wants.  And  if,  when  we  have  acquired 
the  special  good  we  seek,  we  find  that  our  hearts  are 
still  craving  and  restless,  still  hungering  for  a  larger 
good,  we  are  apt  to  think  that  if  we  had  a  little  more 
of  that  which  so  far  has  disappointed  us  ;  if  we  were 
somewhat  wiser,  or  if  our  pleasures  were  more  varied ; 
if  we  had  a  little  more  love  or  a  larger  estate,  all  would 
be  well  with  us,  and  we  should  be  at  peace.  Perhaps 
in  time  we  get  our  "  little  more,"  but  still  our  hearts 
do  not  cry,  "  Hold,  enough  !  " — enough  being  always 
a  little  more  than  we  have ;  till  at  last,  weary  and 
disappointed  in  our  quest,  we  begin  to  despair  of 
ourselves  and  to  distrust  the  goodness  of  God.  "  If 
God  be  good,"  we  ask,  "  why  has  He  made  us  thus — 
always  seeking  yet  never  finding,  urged  on  by  imperious 
appetites  which  are  never  satisfied,  impelled  by  hopes 


THIRD  SECTION. 


which  for  ever  elude  our  grasp  ?  "  And  because  we 
cannot  answer  the  question,  we  cry  out,  "  Vanity  of 
vanities  !  all  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit !  " 

"  Ah,    no,"    replies    the    kindly    Preacher   who    has 
himself  known  this  despairing  mood  and  surmounted 
it ;  "  no,L  all  is  not  vanity.     There  is  a  chief  Good,  a 
satisfying  Good,  although  you  have  not  found  it  yet ; 
and  you  have  not  found  it  because  you  have  not  looked 
for   it  where  alone  it  can  be   found.     Once  take  the 
right  path,  follow  the  right  clue,  and  you  will  find  a 
Good  which  will  make  all  else  good  to  you,  a  Good 
which  will  lend  a  new  sweetness  to  your  wisdom  and 
your  mirth,  your  labour  and  your  gain."     But  men  are 
very  slow  to  believe  that  they  have  wasted  their  time 
and    strength,  that    they   have    wholly  mistaken    their 
path ;  they  are  reluctant  to  believe   that  a  little  more 
of  that  of  which  they  have  already  acquired  so  much, 
and  which  they  have  always  held  to  be  best,  will  not 
yield  them  the  satisfaction  they  seek.     And  therefore 
the  wise  Preacher,  instead  of  telling  us  at  once  where 
the  true   Good  is   to  be   found,    takes   much  pains  to 
convince  us  that  it  is  not  to  be  found  where  we  have 
been  wont  to  seek  it.     He  places  before  us  a  man  of 
the  largest  wisdom,  whose  pleasures  were  exquisitely 
varied  and  combined,  a  man  whose  devotion  to  affairs 
was  the  most  perfect  and  successful,  a  man  of  imperial 
nature  and  wealth,  and  whose  heart  had  glowed  with 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


all  the  fervours  of  love  :  and  this  man — himself  under 
a  thin  disguise — so  rarely  gifted  and  of  such  ample 
conditions,  confesses  that  he  could  not  find  the  Chief 
Good  in  any  one  of  the  directions  in  which  we 
commonly  seek  it,  although  he  had  travelled  farther  in 
every  direction  than  we  can  hope  to  go.  If  we  are  of 
a  rational  temper,  if  we  are  open  to  argument  and 
persuasion,  if  we  are  not  resolved  to  buy  our  own 
experience  at  a  heavy,  perhaps  a  ruinous,  cost,  how 
can  we  but  accept  the  wise  Hebrew's  counsel,  and 
cease  to  look  for  the  satisfying  Good  in  quarters  in 
which  he  assures  us  it  is  not  to  be  found  ? 

We  have  already  considered  his  argument  as  it  bore 
on  the  men  of  his  own  time ;  we  have  now  to  make  its 
application  to  our  own  age.  As  his  custom  is,  the 
Preacher  does  not  develop  his  argument  in  open  logical 
sequence ;  he  does  not  write  a  moral  essay,  but  paints 
us  a  dramatic  picture. 


He  depicts  a  man  who  trusts  in  riches,  who  honestly 
believes  that  wealth  is  the  chief  Good,  or,  at  lowest, 
the  way  to  it.    This  man  has  laboured  dili-       „,    „     ,  . 

•'  The  Quest  iii 

gently  and  dexterously  to  acquire   afflu-  Wealth. 

ence,  and  he  has  acquired  it.     Like  the  ^^'  ^'' 

rich  man  of  the  Parable,  he  has  much  goods,  and  barns 

that  grow  fuller  as  they  grow  bigger.     "  God  has  given 


THIRD  SECTION.  213 


him  riches  and  wealth  and  abundance,  so  that  his  soul " 
— not  having  learned  how  to  look  for  anything  higher — 
"lacks  nothing  of  all  that  it  desireth." 

He  has  reached  his  aim,  then,  acquired  what  he 
holds  to  be  good.  Can  he  not  be  content  with  it  ? 
No  ;  for  though    he  bids   his  soul  make       TheMa?i  who 

^11  ij-i       X.   l'      i.1  c  makes  Riches 

merry  and  be  glad,  it  obstinately  reiuses 

his  Chief  Good 

to  obey.     It  is  darkened  with    perplexi-       is  ha  mi  ted  by 

ties,  haunted   by  vague  longings,  fretted      Pears  and  Per- 
plexities. 
and  stung  with  perpetual  care.     Now  that        q-^  ^j^  ^^^ 

he  has  his  riches,  he  goes  in  dread  lest  i"^- 

he  should   lose  them ;  he  is  unable  to  decide  how  he 

may  best  employ  them,  or  how  to  dispose  of  them  when 

he  must  leave  them  behind  him.     God  has  given  them 

to  him ;  but  he  is  not  at  all  sure  that  God  will  show  an 

equal  wisdom  in  giving  them  to  some  one  else  when  he 

is   gone.     And  so   the   poor  rich  man  sits  steeped  in 

wealth  up  to  his  chin — up  to  his  chin,  but  not  up  to  his 

lips,  for   he  has  no  "  power  to  enjoy  "    it.     Burdened 

with  jealous  care,  he  grudges  that  others  should  share 

what    he   cannot  enjoy,  grudges  above  all  that,  when 

he  is  dead,  another  should  possess  what  has  been  of 

so    little  comfort  to   him.       "  If  thou    art    rich,"    says 

Shakespeare, 

"  thou  art  poor  ; 
For  like  an  ass  whose  back  with  ingots  bows, 
Thou  bearest  thy  heavy  riches  but  a  journey, 
And  Death  unloads  thee." 


214  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

But  our  rich  man  is  not  only  like  an  ass ;  he  is  even 
more  stupid  :  for  the  ass  would  not  have  his  back 
bent  even  v^ith  golden  ingots  if  he  could  help  it,  and  is 
only  too  thankful  when  the  burden  is  lifted  from  his 
back  ;  while  the  rich  man  not  only  will  plod  on  beneath 
his  heavy  load,  but,  in  his  dread  of  being  unladen  at 
his  journey's  end,  imposes  on  himself  a  burden  heavier 
than  all  his  ingots,  and  will  bear  that  as  well  as  his  gold. 
He  creeps  along  beneath  his  double  load,  and  brays 
quite  pitifully  if  you  so  much  as  put  out  a  hand  to 
ease  him. 

It  is  not  of  much  use,  perhaps,  to  argue  with  one  so 
besotted ;  but  lest  zve  should  slip  into  his  degraded 
estate,  the  Preacher  points  out  for  our  in- 

Much  that  he 

struction  the  source   of  his  disquiet,  and        gains  only 
shows  why  it  is  impossible  in  the  very      J^'^^'^^  Vamty. 

Chap,  vi.,  V.  II. 

nature  of  things  that  he  should  know  con- 
tent. Among  other  sources  of  disquiet  he  notes  these 
three,  (i)  That  "  there  are  many  things  which  increase 
vanity : "  that  is  to  say,  many  of  the  acquisitions  of  the 
rich  man  only  augment  his  outward  pomp  and  state. 
Beyond  a  certain  point  he  cannot  possibly  enjoy  the 
good  things  he  possesses  ;  he  cannot,  for  instance,  live 
in  all  his  costly  mansions  at  once,  nor  eat  and  drink  all 
the  sumptuous  fare  set  on  his  table,  nor  carry  his 
whole  wardrobe  on  his  back.  He  is  hampered  with 
superfluities  which  breed  care,  but  yield  him  no  com- 


THIRD  SECTION.  215 


fort.  And,  as  he  grudges  that  others  should  enjoy 
them,  all  this  abundance,  all  that  goes  beyond  his 
personal  gratification,  so  far  from  being  an  "  advan- 
tage "  to  him,  is  only  a  burden  and  a  He  cannot  tell 
torment.       (2)    Another    source    of    dis-      -^^at  it  will  be 

^    ^  good  for  him  to 

quiet  is,^that  no  man,  not  even  he,  "can  .  have; 
tell  what  is  good  for  man  in  life,"  what  Chap,  vi.,  v.  12. 
will  be  really  helpful  and  pleasant  to  him.  Many 
things  which  attract  desire  pall  upon  the  taste.  And 
as  "  the  day  of  our  vain  hfe  is  brief,"  gone  "  Hke  a 
shadow,"  he  may  flit  away  before  he  has  had  a  chance 
of  using  much  that  he  has  laboriously  Norforesee 
acquired.     (3)  And  a  third  source  of  dis-       -^h^t^M^^- 

'  ^    '  come  of  his 

quiet   is,  that   the    more  a  man   has  the  Gains: 

more  he  must  leave:  and  this  is  a  fact  Chap.vi., v.  12. 
which  cuts  him  two  ways,  with  a  keen  double  edge. 
For  the  more  he  has  the  less  he  likes  leaving  it ;  and 
the  more  he  has  the  more  is  he  puzzled  how  to  leave 
it.  He  cannot  tell  "  what  shall  be  after  him,"  and  so 
he  makes  one  will  to-day  and  another  to-morrow,  and 
very  likely  dies  intestate  after  all. 

Is  not  that  a  true  picture,  a  picture  true  to  life  ? 
Bulwer  Lytton  tells  us  how  one  of  our  wealthiest  peers 
once  complained  to  him  that  he  was  never  so  happy 
and  well-served  as  when  he  was  a  bachelor  in  chambers  ; 
that  his  splendid  mansion  was  a  dreary  solitude  to 
him,  and  the  long  train  of  domestics  his  masters  rather 


2i6  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

than  his  servants.  And  more  than  once  he  depicts,  as 
in  The  Caxtons,  a  man  of  immense  fortune  and  estate  as 
so  occupied  in  learning  and  discharging  the  heavy  duties 
of  property,  so  tied  and  hampered  by  the  thought  of 
what  was  expected  of  him,  as  to  fret  under  a  constant 
weight  of  care  and  to  lose  all  the  sweet  uses  of  life. 
And  have  not  we  ourselves  known  men  who  have 
grown  more  penurious  as  they  have  grown  richer,  men 
unable  to  decide  what  it  would  be  really  good  or  even 
pleasant  for  them  to  do,  more  and  more  anxious  as  to 
how  they  should  devise  their  abundance  ?  "  I  am  a 
poor  rich  man,  burdened  with  money ;  but  I  have 
nothing  else,"  was  the  saying  of  a  notorious  millionaire, 
who  died  while  he  was  signing  a  cheque  for  ^io,000, 
some  twenty  years  ago. 

But  the  Hebrew  Preacher  is  not  content  to  paint  a 
picture  of  the  Rich  Man  and  his  perplexities — a  picture 
as  true  to  the  life  now  as  it  was  then.        A?id  because 
He  also  points  out  how  it  is  that  the  lover        c.odhasput 

Eternity  into 

of  riches  came  to  be  the  man  he  is,  and  his  Heart,  he 
why  he  can  never  lay  hold  on  the  supreme      ^'""'"^  ^'  """- 

•^  ■'  tent  with  Tetn- 

Good.  "  All  the  labour  of  this  man  is  for  porai  Good. 
his  mouth,"  for  the  senses  and  whatever  Ch.vi.,vv.7-io. 
gratifies  sense  ;  and  therefore,  however  prosperous  he 
may  be,  "yet  his  soul  cannot  be  satisfied,"  For  the 
soul  is  not  fed  by  that  which  feeds  the  senses.  God 
has  "  put  eternity  "  into  it.     It  craves  an  eternal  sus- 


THIRD  SECTION.  217 


tenance.  It  cannot  rest  till  it  gains  access  to  "  the 
living  water,"  and  "  the  meat  which  endureth,"  and 
the  good  "wine  of  the  kingdom."  A  beast — if  indeed 
beasts  have  no  souls,  which  I  neither  deny  nor  admit — 
may  be  content  if  only  he  be  placed  in  comfortable 
outward  conditions ;  but  a  man,  simply  because  he  is 
a  man,  must  have  a  wholesome  and  happy  inward  life 
before  he  can  be  content.  His  hunger  and  thirst  after 
righteousness  must  be  satisfied.  He  must  know  that, 
when  flesh  and  heart  fail  him,  he  will  be  received  into 
an  eternal  habitation.  He  must  have  a  treasure  which 
the  moth  cannot  corrupt,  nor  the  thief  filch  from  him. 
We  cannot  escape  our  nature  any  more  than  we  can 
jump  off  our  shadow ;  and  our  very  nature  cries  out 
for  an  immortal  good.  Hence  it  is  that  the  rich  man 
who  trusts  in  his  riches,  and  not  in  the  God  who  gave 
them  to  him,  carries  within  him  a  hungry  craving  soul. 
Hence  it  is  that  all  who  trust  in  riches,  and  hold  them 
to  be  the  Chief  Good,  are  restless  and  unsatisfied.  For, 
as  the  Preacher  reminds  us,  it  is  very  true  both  that 
the  rich  man  may  not  be  a  fool,  and  that  the  poor  man 
may  trust  in  the  riches  he  has  not  won.  By  virtue  of 
his  wisdom,  the  wise  rich  man  may  so  vary  and  com- 
bine the  good  things  of  this  Hfe  as  to  win  from  them 
a  gratification  denied  to  the  sot  whose  sordid  heart  is 
set  on  gold ;  and  the  poor  man,  because  he  has  so 
few  of  the    enjoyments  which  wealth    can    buy,   may 


2i8  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

snatch  at  the  few  that  come  his  way  with  the  violent 
dehght  which  has  violent  ends.  Both  may  "  enjoy  the 
good  they  have "  rather  than  "  crave  a  good  beyond 
their  (present)  reach  : "  but  if  they  mistake  that  good 
for  the  Supreme  Good,  neither  their  poverty  nor  their 
wisdom  will  save  them  from  the  misery  of  a  fatal 
mistake.  For  they  too  have  souls,  are  souls ;  and  the 
soul  is  not  to  be  satisfied  with  that  which  goes  in  at 
the  mouth.  Wise  or  foolish,  rich  or  poor,  whosoever 
trusts  in  riches  is  either  like  the  ass  whose  back  is 
•bent  with  a  weight  of  gold,  or  he  is  worse  than  the 
ass,  and  longs  to  take  a  burden  on  his  back  of  which 
only  Death  can  unlade  him. 


2.   But  now,  to  come   closer  home,  to   draw  nearer 
to  that  prime  wisdom  which  consists  in  knowing  that 
which  lies  before  us  in  our  daily  Hfe,  let       The  Quest  in 
us  glance  at  the  Man  who  aims  to  stand        ^''^'^  Golden 

Mean. 

in  the  Golden  Mean ;  the  man  who  does  q-^  ^-  ^  ^_ 
not  aspire  to  heap  up  a  great  fortune,  Ch.  viii.,  v.  15. 
but  is  anxious  to  secure  a  modest  competence.  He  is 
more  on  our  own  level ;  for  our  trust  in  riches  is,  for 
the  most  part,  qualified  by  other  trusts.  If  we  believe 
in  Gold,  we  also  beheve  in  Wisdom  and  in  Mirth ; 
if  we  labour  to  provide  for  the  future,  we  also  wish 
to  use  and  enjoy  the  present.     We  think  it  well  that 


THIRD  SECTION.  219 

we  should  know  something  of  the  world  about  us,  and 
take  some  pleasure  in  our  life.  We  think  that  to  put 
money  in  our  purse  should  not  be  our  only  aim,  though 
it  should  be  a  leading  aim.  We  admit  that  "  the  love 
of  money  is  a  root  of  all  evil " — one  of  the  roots  from 
which  all  forms  and  kinds  of  evil  may  spring  ;  and, 
to  save  ourselves  from  falling  into  that  base  lust,  we 
limit  our  desires.  We  shall  be  content  if  we  can  put 
by  a  moderate  sum,  and  we  flatter  ourselves  that  we 
desire  even  so  much  as  that,  not  for  its  own  sake,  but 
for  the  means  of  knowledge,  or  of  usefulness,  or  of 
innocent  enjoyment  with  which  it  will  furnish  us. 
"  Nothing  I  should  like  better,"  says  many  a  man, 
"  than  to  retire  from  business  as  soon  as  I  have  enough 
to  live  upon,  and  to  devote  myself  to  this  branch  of 
study,  or  that  province  of  art,  or  to  take  my  share  of 
public  duties,  or  to  give  myself  to  a  cheerful  domestic 
life."  It  speaks  well  for  our  time,  I  think,  that  while 
in  a  few  large  cities  there  are  still  many  in  haste  to 
be  rich  and  very  rich,  in  the  country  and  in  hundreds 
of  provincial  towns  there  are  thousands  of  men  who 
know  that  wealth  is  not  the  Chief  Good,  and  who  do 
not  care  to  don  the  livery  of  Mammon.  Nevertheless, 
though  their  aim  be  "  most  sweet  and  commendable," 
it  has  perils  of  its  own,  imminent  and  deadly  perils, 
which  few  of  us  altogether  escape.  And  these  perils 
are  clearly  set  before  us  in  the  sketch  of  the  Hebrew 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


Preacher.  As  I  reproduce  that  sketch,  suffer  me,  for 
the  sake  of  brevity,  while  carefully  retaining  the  antique 
outlines,   to  fill  in  with  modern  details. 

Suppose  a  young  man  to  start  in  life  with  this 
theory,  this  plan,  this  aim,  distinctly  before  him  : — he  is 
to  be  ruled  by  prudence  and  plain  common      „,    ,,  ,   ,   , 

•^   ^  ^  The  Method  of 

sense  :  he  will  try  to  stand  well  with  the       the  Man  who 

11  J   .  1  1         .  .    .  seeks  a  Com- 

world,  and  to  make  a  moderate  provision 

^  petence. 

for  future  wants.     This  aim  will  beget  a       Ch.  viii.,  w. 
certain  temperance  of  thought  and  action.  ^'^'^' 

He  will  permit  himself  no  extravagances — no  wandering 
out  of  bounds,  and  perhaps  no  enthusiasms,  for  he  wants 
to  establish  "  a  good  name,"  a  good  reputation,  which 
shall  go  before  him  like  "  a  sweet  perfume  "  and  dispose 
men's  hearts  toward  him.  And,  therefore,  he  carries 
a  sober  face,  frequents  the  company  of  older,  wiser  men, 
is  grateful  for  any  hints  their  experience  may  furnish, 
and  takes  even  their  "reproof"  with  a  good  grace.  He 
walks  in  the  beaten  paths,  knowing  the  world  to  be  im- 
patient of  novelties.  The  wanton  mirth  and  crackling 
laughter  of  fools  in  the  house  of  feasting  are  not  for 
him.  He  is  not  to  be  seduced  from  the  plain  prudent 
course  which  he  has  marked  out  for  himself  whether 
by  inward  provocation  or  outward  allurements.  If  he 
is  a  young  lawyer,  he  will  write  no  poetry,  attorneys 
holding  literary  men  in  suspicion.  If  he  is  a  young 
doctor,  homoeopathy,  hydropathy,  and  all  new-fangled 


THIRD  SECTION. 


schemes  of  medicine  will  disclose  their  charms  to  him 
in  vain.  If  he  is  a  young  clergyman,  he  will  be  con- 
spicuous for  his  orthodoxy,  and  for  his  emphatic  assent 
to  all  that  the  leaders  of  opinion  in  the  Church  think  or 
may  think.  If  he  is  a  young  manufacturer  or  merchant, 
he  will  be  no  breeder  of  costly  patents  and  inventions, 
but  will  be  among  the  first  to  profit  by  them  whenever 
they  are  found  to  pay.  Whatever  he  may  be,  he  will 
not  be  of  those  who  try  to  make  crooked  things  straight 
and  rough  places  plain.  He  wants  to  get  on ;  and  the 
best  way  to  get  on  is  to  keep  the  beaten  path  and  push 
forward  in  that.  And  he  will  be  patient — not  throwing 
up  the  game  because  for  a  time  the  chances  go  against 
him,  but  waiting  till  the  times  mend  and  his  chances 
improve.  So  far  as  he  can,  he  will  keep  the  middle  of 
the  stream  that,  when  the  tide  which  leads  on  to  fortune 
sets  in,  he  may  be  of  the  first  to  take  it  at  the  flood 
and  sail  easily  on  to  his  desired  haven. 

In  all  this  there  may  be  no  conscious  insincerity,  and 
not  much  perhaps  that  calls  for  censure.  For  all  young 
men  are  not  wise  with  the  highest  wisdom,  nor  original, 
nor  brave  with  the  courage  which  follows  Truth  in 
scorn  of  consequence.  And  our  young  man  may  not 
be  dowered  with  the  love  of  loves,  the  hate  of  hates, 
the  scorn  of  scorns.  He  may  be  of  a  nature  essen- 
tially prudent  and  commonplace,  or  training  and  habit 
may  have   superinduced  a  second  nature.     To  him  a 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


primrose  may  be  a  primrose  and  nothing  more  ;  his 
instinctive  thought,  as  he  looks  at  it,  may  be  how  he  can 
reproduce  its  colour  in  some  of  his  textures  or  extract 
a  saleable  perfume  from  its  nectared  cup.  He  may 
even  think  that  primroses  are  a  mistake,  and  that  'tis 
pity  they  were  not  pot-herbs ;  or  he  may  assume  that 
he  shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  gather  primroses  by- 
and-bye,  but  that  for  the  present  he  must  be  content  to 
pick  pot-herbs  for  the  market.  In  his  way,  he  may  even 
be  a  religious  man  ;  he  may  admit  that  both  prosperity 
and  adversity  are  of  God,  that  we  must  take  patiently 
whatever  He  may  send ;  and  he  may  heartily  desire  to 
be  on  good  terms  with  Him  who  alone  "can  order  all 
things  as  He  please." 

But  here  we  light  on  his  first  grave  peril ;  for  he  will 
carry  his  temperance  into  his  religion,  and  he  may 
subordinate  even  that  to  his  desire  to  get  The  Perils  to 
on.     Looking  on   men   in  their  religious       "'''"'''''  ^'^  ^"*" 

poses  him. 

aspect,  he  sees  that  they  are  divided  into      q^  ^,jj   ^ 
two  classes,  the  righteous  and  the  wicked.      Ch.  vUi.,  v.  13. 
As  he  considers  them,  he  concludes  that  on  the  whole 
the  righteous  have  the  best  of  it,  that  godliness  is  real 
gain.     But  he  soon  discovers   that   this      He  is  likely  to 


first  rough  conclusion  needs  to  be  care-        compromise 

Conscience  ; 

fully  quahfied.     For,  as  he   studies  men        q-^^  ^jj   ^^ 
more  closely,  he  perceives  that  at  times  ^5-20. 

the  righteous  die  in  their  righteousness  without  being 


THIRD  SECTION.  223 


the  better  for  it,  and  the  wicked  live  on  in  their 
wickedness  without  being  the  worse  for  it.  He  per- 
ceives that  while  the  very  wicked  die  before  their  time, 
the  very  righteous,  those  who  are  always  reaching 
forth  to  that  which  is  before  them  and  rising  to  new 
heights  of  insight  and  obedience,  are  "  forsaken,"  that 
they  are  left  alone  in  the  thinly-peopled  solitude  to 
which  they  have  climbed,  losing  the  sympathy  even  of 
those  who  once  walked  with  them.  Now,  these  are 
facts  ;  and  a  prudent  sensible  man  tries  to  accept  facts, 
and  to  adjust  himself  to  them,  even  when  they  are  adverse 
to  his  wishes  and  conclusions.  He  does  not  want  to 
be  left  alone,  nor  to  die  before  his  time.  And  therefore, 
taking  these  new  facts  into  account,  he  infers  that  it 
will  be  best  to  be  good  without  being  too  good,  and 
to  indulge  himself  with  an  occasional  lapse  into  some 
general  and  customary  wickedness  without  being  too 
wicked.  Nay,  he  is  disposed  to  believe  that  "whoso 
feareth  God,"  studying  the  facts  of  his  providence  and 
drawing  logical  inferences  from  them,  "  will  lay  hold 
of  both"  wickedness  and  righteousness,  and  will  blend 
them  in  that  proportion  which  the  facts  seem  to  favour. 
But  here  Conscience  protests,  urging  that  to  do  evil  can 
never  be  good.  To  pacify  it,  he  adduces  the  notorious 
fact  that  "  there  is  not  a  righteous  man  on  earth  who 
doeth  good,  and  sinneth  not."  "  Conscience,"  he  says, 
"you  are  really  too  strict  and  straitlaced,  too  hard  on 


224  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

one  who  wants  to  do  as  well  as  he  can.  You  go  quite 
too  far.  How  can  you  expect  me  to  be  better  than 
great  saints  and  men  after  God's  own  heart  ?  "  And 
so,  with  a  wronged  and  pious  air,  he  turns  to  lay  one 
hand  on  wickedness  and  another  on  righteousness, 
quite  content  to  be  no  better  than  his  neighbours 
and  to  let  Conscience  sulk  herself  into  a  sweeter 
mood. 

Conscience  being  silenced,  Prudence  steps  in.  And 
Prudence  says,  "  People  will  talk.  They  will  take  note 
of  your  slips,  and  tattle  about  them.     Un- 

T()  be  indiffer- 

less  you  are  very  very  careful,  you  will  cut  to  censure ; 
damage  your  reputation  ;    and  if  you  do      ^^-  ^"•'  ^'^-  ^^' 

22. 

that,  how  can  you  hope  to  get  on  ? " 
Now  as  the  man  is  specially  devoted  to  Prudence,  and 
has  found  her  kind  mistress  and  useful  monitress  in 
one,  he  is  at  first  a  little  staggered  to  find  her  taking 
part  against  him.  But  he  soon  recovers  himself,  and 
replies  :  "  Dear  Prudence,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do 
that  people  don't  like  a  man  to  be  better  than  them- 
selves. Of  course  they  will  talk  if  they  catch  me 
tripping ;  but  I  don't  mean  to  do  more  than  trip,  and 
a  man  who  trips  gains  ground  in  recovering  himself, 
and  goes  all  the  faster  for  a  while.  Besides  we  all 
trip;  some  fall  even.  And  I  talk  of  my  neighbours 
just  as  they  talk  of  me  ;  and  we  all  like  each  other  the 
better  for  being  birds  of  one  feather." 


THIRD  SECTION.  225 


At  this  Prudence  smiles  and  stops  her  mouth.  But 
being  very  willing  to  assist  so  quick-witted  a  disciple, 
she   presently  returns  and   says  :    "  Are 

To  despise 

you  not  rather  a  long  while  in  securing  Women,- 

your    little    Competence  ?       Is    there    no        ^h.  vii.,  w. 

25-29. 
short   cut   to   it  ?     Why  not  take  a  wife 

with  a  small  fortune  of  her  own,  or  with  connexions 

who  could  help  you  on  ?  "     Now  the  man,  not  being 

a  bad  man,  but  one  who  would  fain  be  good  so  far  as 

he  knows  goodness,  is  somewhat  taken  aback  by  such 

a   suggestion   as   this.     He   thinks   Prudence  must   be 

growing  very  worldly  and  mercenary.     He  says  within 

himself,  "  Surely  love  should  be  sacred  !     A  man  should 

not  prostitute  that  in  order  to  get  on  !     If  I  marry  a 

woman  simply  or  mainly  for  her  money,  what  worse 

degradation  can   I  inflict  on  her  or  on  myself?    how 

shall  I  be  better  than  those  old  Hebrews  and  Orientals 

who  held  women  to  be  only  a  toy  or  a  convenience  ?    To 

do  that,  would  be  to  make  a  snare  and  a  net  of  her 

indeed,  to  degrade  her  from  her  true  place  and  function, 

and   possibly  would  lead  me  to  think  of  her  as  even 

worse  than  I  had  made  her."     Nevertheless,  his  heart 

being  very  much  set  on  securing  a  Competence,  and  an 

accident    of  the    sort    which    he    calls    "  providences " 

putting  a  foolish  woman  with  a  pocketful  of  money  in 

his  way,  he  takes  both  the  counsel  of  Prudence  and  a 

wife  to  match. 

15 


226  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

The  world,  we  may  be  sure,  thinks  none  the  worse 
of  him  for  that.  Once  more  he  has  proved  himself  a 
man  whose  eye  is  stedfastly  bent  on  "  the  j^„^  f^  j,^  i^. 
main  chance,"   and   who    knows   how  to         different  to 

Public 

seize  occasions  as  they  rise.     But  he,  who  wron^s 

has  thus  profaned  the  inner  sanctuary  of        Ch.  viii.,  w. 
his  own  soul,  is  not  likely  to  be  sensitive  ^'^^' 

to  the  large  claims  of  public  duty.  If  he  sees  oppres- 
sion, if  the  tyranny  of  a  man  or  a  class  mounts  to  a 
height  which  calls  for  rebuke  and  opposition,  he  is  not 
likely  to  sacrifice  comfort  and  risk  either  property  or 
popularity  that  he  may  assail  iniquity  in  her  strong 
places.  It  is  not  such  men  as  he  who,  when  the  times 
are  out  of  joint,  feel  that  they  are  born  to  set  them 
right.  Prudence  is  still  his  guide,  and  Prudence  says, 
"  Let  things  alone ;  they  will  right  themselves  in  time. 
The  social  laws  will  avenge  themselves  on  the  head  of 
the  oppressor,  and  deliver  the  oppressed.  You  can  do 
little  to  hasten  their  action.  Why,  to  gain  so  little, 
should  you  risk  so  much  ?  "  And  the  man  is  content 
to  sit  still  with  folded  hands  when  every  hand  that  can 
strike  a  blow  for  right  is  wanted  in  the  strife,  and  can 
even  quote  texts  of  Scripture  to  prove  that  in  "  quiet- 
ness, and  confidence  "  in  the  action  of  Divine  Laws,  is 
the  true  strength. 

Now  I  make  my  appeal  to  those  who  daily  enter  the 
world  of  business — is  not  this  the  tone  of  that  world  ? 


THIRD  SECTION.  227 


are  not  these  the  very  perils  to  which  you  lie  open  ? 
How  often  have  you  heard  men  recount 

The  Preacher 

the  slips    of    the    righteous    in    order    to       condemns  this 
justify  themselves    for    not    assuming    to        Theory,  and 

declares  the 

be  righteous  overmuch  !     How  often  have      ^^^^^  ^^  ^^ ^^ -^^ 

you    heard    them    vindicate     their    own        nnattained. 

occasional   errors  by  citing  the  errors  of        ^'  ^"■'  ^^"  ^'^' 
JO  ^  15. 

those  who  give  greater  heed  to  religion 
than  they  do,  or  make  a  louder  profession  of  it ! 
How  often  have  you  heard  them  congratulate  a 
neighbour  on  his  good  luck  in  carrying  off  an  heiress, 
or  speak  of  wedded  love  itself  as  a  mere  help  to 
worldly  advancement  !  How  often  have  you  heard 
them  sneer  at  the  nonsensical  enthusiasm  which 
has  led  certain  men  to  "throw  away  their  chances  in 
life  "  in  order  to  devote  themselves  to  the  service  of 
truth,  or  to  forfeit  popularity  that  they  might  lead  a 
forlorn  hope  against  customary  wrongs,  and  thank  God 
that  no  such  maggot  ever  bit  their  brains  !  If  during  the 
years  which  have  lapsed  since  I  too  "went  on  'Change," 
the  general  tone  has  not  risen  a  whole  heaven — and  I 
have  heard  of  no  such  miracle — 'I  know  that  you  must 
daily  hear  such  things  as  these,  and  worse  than  these  ; 
and  that  not  only  from  irreligious  men  of  bad  character, 
but  from  men  who  take  a  fair  place  in  our  Christian 
congregations.  From  the  time  of  the  wise  Preacher 
to  the  present  hour,  this  sort  of  talk  has  been  going 


228  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

on,  and  the  scheme  of  hfe  from  which  it  springs  has 
been  stoutly  held.  There  is  the  more  need,  therefore, 
for  you  to  listen  to  and  weigh  the  Preacher's  con- 
clusion. For  his  conclusion  is,  that  this  scheme  of 
life  is  wholly  and  irredeemably  wrong,  that  it  tends 
to  make  a  man  a  coward  and  a  slave,  that  it  cannot 
satisfy  the  large  desires  of  the  soul,  and  that  it  cheats 
him  of  the  Chief  Good.  His  conclusion  is,  that  the  man 
who  so  sets  his  heart  on  acquiring  even  a  Competence 
that  he  cannot  be  content  without  it,  has  no  genuine 
trust  in  God,  since  he  is  willing  to  give  in  to  immoral 
maxims  and  customs  in  order  to  secure  that  which, 
as  he  thinks,  will  make  him  largely  independent  of 
the  Divine  Providence. 

The  Preacher  speaks  as  to  wise  men,  to  men  of 
some  experience  of  the  world.  Judge  you  what  he 
says. 


FOURTH    SECTION. 

THE  QUEST  ACHIEVED.  THE  CHIEF  GOOD  IS  TO  BE 
FOUND,  NOT  IN  WISDOM,  NOR  IN  PLEASURE,  NOR 
IN  DEVOTION  TO  AFFAIRS  AND  ITS  REWARDS; 
BUT  IN  A  WISE  USE  AND  A  WISE  ENJOYMENT  OF 
THE  PRESENT  LIFE,  COMBINED  WITH  A  STEDFAST 
FAITH  IN  THE  LIFE  TO  COME. 

Chap.  VIII.,  Ver.  i6,  to  Chap.  XII.,  Ver.  7. 

A  T  last  we  approach  the  end  of  our  Quest.  The 
Preacher  has  found  the  Chief  Good,  and  will 
show  us  where  to  find  it.  But  are  we  even  yet  pre- 
pared to  welcome  it  and  to  lay  hold  of  it  ?  Appa- 
rently he  thinks  we  are  not.  For,  though  he  has 
already  warned  us  that  it  is  not  to  be  found  in 
Wealth  or  Industry,  in  Pleasure  or  Wisdom,  he  re- 
peats his  warning  in  this  last  Section  of  his  Book, 
as  if  he  still  suspected  us  of  hankering  after  our 
old  errors.  Not  till  he  has  again  assured  us  that  we 
shall  miss  our  mark  if  we  seek  the  supreme  Good  in 
any  of  the  directions  in  which  it  is  commonly  sought, 
does  he  direct  us  to  the  sole  path  in  which  we  shall 
not  seek  in  vain.     Once  more,  therefore,  we  must  gird 


230  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

up  the  loins  of  our  mind  to  follow  him  along  his 
several  lines  of  thought,  encouraged  by  the  assurance 
that  the  end  of  our  journey  is  not  now  far  off. 

I.  The  Preacher  commences  this  Section  by  care- 
fully defining  his  position  and  equipment  as  he  starts 
on  his  final  course.  As  yet  he  carries  no  The  Chief  Good 
lamp  of  Revelation  in  his  hand,  although     ""^  ^^  '"■^"""'^ 

ill  Wisdom  : 

he  will  not  venture  beyond  a  certain  ^-.j^  ^j^j  ^  ^^_ 
point  without  it.  For  the  present  he  will  <^'h-  ix.,  v.  6. 
trust  to  Reason  and  Experience,  and  mark  the  con- 
clusions to  which  these  conduct  when  unaided  by  any 
direct  light  from  Heaven.  His  first  conclusion  is  that 
Wisdom,  which  of  all  temporal  goods  still  stands  fore- 
most with  him,  is  incapable  of  yielding  a  true  content. 
Much  as  it  can  do  for  man,  it  cannot  solve  the  moral 
problems  which  task  and  afflict  his  heart,  the  problems 
which  he  must  solve  before  he  can  be  at  peace.  He 
may  be  so  bent  on  solving  these  by  Wisdom  as  to  see 
"  no  sleep  with  his  eyes  by  day  or  night ; "  he  may 
rely  on  Wisdom  with  a  confidence  so  genuine  as  to 
suppose  at  times  that  by  its  help  he  has  "  found  out  all 
the  work  of  God " — really  solved  all  the  mysteries  of 
the  Divine  Providence  ;  but  nevertheless  "  he  has  not 
found  it  out ; "  the  illusion  will  soon  pass,  and  the  un- 
solved mysteries  reappear  dark  and  sombre  as  of  old 
(chap,  viii.,  vv.  i6,  17).  And  the  proof  that  he  has 
failed  is,  first,  that  he  is  as  incompetent  to  foresee  the 


FOURTH  SECTION.  231 

future  as  those  who  are  not  so  wise  as  he.  With  all 
his  sagacity,  he  cannot  tell  whether  he  shall  meet  "the 
love  or  the  hatred  "  of  his  fellows.  His  lot  is  as  closely 
hidden  in  "  the  hand  of  God  "  as  theirs,  although  he 
may  be  as  much  better  as  he  is  wiser  than  they 
(chap,  ix.,  ver.  i).  A  second  proof  is  that  "the  same 
fate "  overtakes  both  the  wise  and  the  foolish,  the 
righteous  and  the  wicked,  and  he  is  as  unable  to  escape 
it  as  any  of  his  neighbours.  All  die ;  and  to  men 
ignorant  of  the  heavenly  hope  of  the  Gospel  the  indis- 
crimination of  Death  seems  the  most  cruel  and  hopeless 
of  wrongs.  The  Preacher,  indeed,  is  not  ignorant  of 
that  bright  hope ;  but  as  yet  he  has  not  taken  the 
lamp  of  Revelation  into  his  hand  :  he  is  simply  speak- 
ing the  thought  of  those  who  have  no  higher  guide 
than  Reason,  no  brighter  light  than  Reflection.  And 
to  these,  their  wisdom  having  taught  them  that  to  do 
right  is  infinitely  better  than  to  do  wrong,  no  fact  was 
so  monstrous  and  inscrutable  as  that  their  lives  should 
run  to  the  same  disastrous  close  with  the  lives  of  evil 
and  violent  men,  that  all  alike  should  fall  into  the  hands 
of  "  that  churl.  Death."  As  they  revolved  this  fact, 
their  hearts  grew  hot  with  a  fierce  resentment  as 
natural  as  it  was  impotent,  a  resentment  all  the  hotter 
because  they  knew  how  impotent  it  was.  Therefore 
the  Preacher  dwells  on  this  fact,  lingers  over  his  de- 
scription of  it,  adding  touch  to  touch.    "  One  fate  comes 


232  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

to  all,"  he  says,  "  to  the  righteous  and  to  the  wicked, 
to  the  pure  and  to  the  impure,  to  the  religious  and  to  the 
irreligious,  to  the  profane  and  to  the  reverent."  If  death 
be  a  good,  the  maddest  fool  and  the  vilest  reprobate 
share  it  with  the  sage  and  the  saint.  If  death  be  an 
evil,  it  is  inflicted  on  the  good  as  well  as  on  the  bad. 
None  is  exempt.  Of  all  wrongs  this  is  the  greatest ;  of 
all  problems  this  is  the  most  insoluble.  Nor  is  there 
any  doubt  as  to  the  nature  of  death.  To  him  for  whom 
there  shines  no  light  of  hope  behind  the  darkness  of 
the  grave,  death  is  the  supreme  evil.  For  to  the  living, 
however  deject  and  wretched,  there  is  still  some  hope 
that  times  may  mend  :  even  though  in  outward  con- 
dition despicable  as  that  unclean  outcast,  a  dog — the 
homeless  and  masterless  scavenger  of  Eastern  cities — 
he  has  some  advantage  over  the  royal  lion  who,  once 
couched  on  a  throne,  now  lies  in  the  dust  rotting  to 
dust.  The  living  know  at  least  that  they  must  die  ;  but 
the  dead  know  not  anything.  The  living  can  recall  the 
past,  and  their  memory  harps  fondly  on  notes  which 
were  once  most  sweet ;  but  the  very  memory  of  the 
dead  has  perished,  no  music  of  the  happy  past  can 
revive  on  their  dulled  sense,  nor  will  any  recall  their 
names.  The  heavens  are  fair  ;  the  earth  is  beautiful 
and  generous  ;  the  works  of  men  are  many  and  diverse 
and  great ;  but  they  have  "  no  more  any  portion  for 
ever  in  ought  that  is  done  under  the  sun  "  (vv.  2-6). 


FOURTH  SECTION.  233 

This  is  the  Preacher's  description  of  the  hapless 
estate  of  the  dead.  His  words  would  go  straight  home 
to  the  hearts  of  the  men  for  whom  he  wrote,  with  a 
force  even  beyond  that  which  they  would  have  for 
heathen  races.  In  their  Captivity,  they  had  renounced 
the  worship  of  idols.  They  had  renewed  their  covenant 
with  Jehovah.  Many  of  them  were  devoutly  attached 
to  the  ordinances  and  commandments  which  they  and 
their  fathers  had  neglected  in  happier  and  more  pros- 
perous years.  Yet  their  lives  were  made  bitter  to  them 
with  cruel  bondage,  and  they  had  as  little  hope  in  their 
death  as  the  Persians  who  embittered  their  lives,  and 
probably  even  less.  It  was  in  this  sore  strait,  and 
under  the  strong  compulsions  of  this  dreadful  extremity, 
that  the  more  studious  and  pious  of  their  rabbis,  like 
the  Preacher  himself,  drew  into  an  expressive  context 
the  passages  scattered  through  their  Sacred  Books 
which  hinted  at  a  retributive  life  beyond  the  tomb,  and 
settled  into  that  firm  persuasion  of  the  immortality  of 
the  soul  which,  as  a  rule,  they  never  henceforth  alto- 
gether let  go.  But  when  the  Preacher  wrote,  this 
settled  and  general  conviction  had  not  been  reached. 
There  were  many  among  them  who,  as  their  thoughts 
circled  round  the  mystery  of  death,  could  only  cry, 
"Is  this  the  end?  is  this  the  end?"  To  the  great 
majority  of  them  it  seemed  the  end.  And  even  the 
few,  who  sought  an  answer  to  the  question  by  blending 


234  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

the  Greek  and  Oriental  with  the  Hebrew  Wisdom, 
attained  no  clear  answer  to  it.  To  mere  human 
wisdom,  Life  remained  a  mystery,  and  Death  a 
mystery  still  more  cruel  and  impenetrable.  Only 
those  who  listened  to  the  Preachers  and  Prophets 
taught  of  God  beheld  the  dawn  which  already  began 
to  gHmmer  on  the  darkness  in  which  men  sat. 

Imagine,  then,  a  Jew  brought  to  the  bitter  pass  which 
Coheleth  has  described.  He  has  acquainted  himself 
with   Wisdom,   native    and    foreign  :  and        .,     .    „, 

'  °     '  Nor  in  Plea- 

wisdom    has    led    him    to   conclusions  of  sure: 

virtue.  Nor  is  he  of  those  who  love  Ch.ix.,vv.7-i2. 
virtue  as  they  love  music — without  practising  it. 
Believing  that  a  righteous  and  religious  carriage  of 
himself  will  ensure  happiness  and  equip  him  to 
encounter  the  problems  of  life,  he  has  striven  to  be 
good  and  pure,  to  offer  his  sacrifices  and  pay  his  vows. 
But  he  has  found  that,  despite  his  best  endeavours,  his 
life  is  not  tranquil,  that  the  very  calamities  which  over- 
take the  wicked  overtake  him,  that  that  wise  carriage 
of  himself  by  which  he  thought  to  win  love  has  pro- 
voked hatred,  that  death  remains  a  frowning  and 
inhospitable  mystery.  He  hates  death,  and  has  no 
great  love  for  the  life  which  has  brought  him  only 
labour  and  disappointment.  Where  is  he  likely  to 
turn  next  ?  Wisdom  having  failed  him,  to  what  will 
he  apply  ?     At  what  conclusion  will  he  arrive  ?     Will 


FOURTH  SECTION.  235 

not  his  conclusion  be  that  standing  conclusion  of  the 
baffled  and  the  hapless,  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink  for 
to-morrow  we  die  "  ?  Will  he  not  say,  "  Why  should 
I  weary  myself  any  more  with  studies  which  yield  no 
certain  science,  and  self-denials  which  meet  with  no 
reward  ?  If  a  wise  and  pure  conduct  cannot  secure 
me  from  the  evils  I  dread,  let  me  at  least  try  to  forget 
them  and  to  grasp  such  poor  delights  as  are  still  within 
my  reach  ?  "  This,  at  all  events,  is  the  conclusion  in 
which  the  Preacher  lands  him  ;  and  hence  he  takes 
occasion  to  review  the  pretensions  of  Pleasure  or  Mirth. 
To  the  baffled  and  hopeless  devotee  of  Wisdom  he 
says,  "  Go,  then,  eat  thy  bread  with  gladness,  and 
drink  thy  wine  with  a  merry  heart.  Cease  to  trouble 
yourself  about  God  and  His  judgments.  He,  as  you 
have  seen,  does  not  mete  out  rewards  and  punishments 
according  to  our  merit  or  demerit ;  and  as  He  does  not 
punish  the  wicked  after  their  deserts,  you  may  be  sure 
that  He  has  long  since  accepted  your  wise  virtuous  en- 
deavours, and  will  keep  no  score  against  you.  Deck 
yourself  in  white  festive  garments ;  let  no  perfume 
be  lacking  to  your  head ;  add  to  your  harem  any 
woman  who  charms  your  eye  :  and,  as  the  day  of 
your  life  is  brief  at  the  best,  let  no  hour  of  it  slip 
by  unenjoyed.  As  you  have  chosen  Mirth  for  your 
portion,  be  as  merry  as  you  may.  Whatever  you  can 
get,  get ;  whatever  you  can  do,    do.     You  are  on  the 


236  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


road  to  the  dark  dismal  grave  where  there  is  no  work 
nor  device ;  there  is,  therefore,  the  more  reason  why 
your  journey  should  be  a  merry  one"  (vv.  7- 10). 

Thus  the  Preacher  describes  the  Man  of  Pleasure, 
and  the  maxims  by  which  he  rules  his  life.  How  true 
the  description  is  I  need  not  tarry  to  prove  ;  'tis  a  point 
every  man  can  judge  for  himself.  Judge  also  whether 
the  warning  which  the  Preacher  subjoins  be  not  equally 
true  to  experience  (vv.  11,  12).  For,  after  having 
depicted,  or  personated,  the  Man  who  trusts  in  Wisdom, 
and  the  Man  who  devotes  himself  to  Pleasure,  he  pro- 
ceeds to  show  that  even  the  Man  who  blends  mirth 
with  study,  whose  wisdom  preserves  him  from  the 
disgusts  of  satiety  and  vulgar  lust,  is  nevertheless — to 
say  nothing  of  the  Chief  Good — very  far  from  having 
reached  a  certain  good.  Then,  at  least,  "  the  race  was 
not  (always)  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong; 
neither  was  bread  to  the  wise,  nor  riches  to  the  intelli- 
gent, nor  favour  to  the  learned."  Those  who  had  the 
fairest  chances  had  not  always  the  happiest  success ; 
nor  did  those  who  bent  themselves  most  strongly  to 
their  ends  always  reach  their  ends.  Those  who  were 
wanton  as  birds,  or  heedless  as  fish,  were  often  taken 
in  the  snare  of  calamity  or  swept  up  by  the  net  of 
misfortune.  At  any  moment  a  killing  frost  might 
blight  all  the  growths  of  Wisdom  and  destroy  all 
the    sweet  fruits  of    Pleasure  :    and  if   they  had  only 


FOURTH  SECTION.  237 


these,  what  could  they  do  but  starve  when  they 
were  gone  ?  The  good  which  was  at  the  mercy  of 
accident,  which  might  vanish  before  the  instant  touch 
of  disease  or  loss  or  pain,  was  not  worthy  to  be, 
or  to  be  compared  with,  the  Chief  Good,  which  is 
a  good  _for  all  times,  in  all  accidents  and  conditions, 
and  renders  him  who  has  it  equal  to  all  events. 

So  far,  then,  Coheleth  has  been  occupied  in  retracing 
the  argument  of  the  first  Section  of  the  Book.  Now 
he  returns  upon  the  second  and  third  ^Yc?;-  in  Devo- 
Sections  :  he    deals    with    the    man    who      ^^^'^  ^'^  Affairs 

and  its  Re- 

plunges  into  public  affairs,  who  turns  his  isjards. 

wisdom  to  practical  account,  and  seeks  Ch.  ix.,  v.  13- 
to  attain  a  competence,  if  not  a  fortune. 
He  lingers  over  this  stage  of  his  argument,  probably 
because  the  Jews,  then  as  always,  even  in  exile  and 
under  the  most  cruel  oppression,  were  a  remarkably 
energetic,  practical,  money-getting  race,  with  a  singular 
faculty  of  dealing  with  political  issues  or  handling  the 
market;  and,  as  he  slowly  pursues  it,  he  drops  many 
hints  of  the  social  and  political  conditions  of  the  time. 
Two  features  of  it  he  takes  much  to  heart :  first,  that 
wisdom,  even  of  the  most  practical  and  sagacious  sort, 
did  not  win  its  fair  recognition  and  reward — a  very 
natural  complaint  in  so  wise  a  man ;  and,  secondly, 
that  his  people  were  under  tyrants  so  gross,  self- 
indulgent,  indolent,  and  unstatesman-Iike  as  the  Persians 


238  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

of  his  day — also  a  natural  complaint  in  a  man  of  so 
wise  and  patriotic  a  spirit.  ■ 

He  opens  with  an  anecdote  in  proof  of  the  slight 
regard  in  which  the  most  valuable  and  remunerative 
sagacity  was  held.  He  tells  us  of  a  poor  man — and 
I  have  sometimes  thought  that  this  poor  man  may  have 
been  the  Author  himself;  for  the  military  leaders  of 
the  Jews,  though  among  the  most  expert  strategists 
of  that  era,  were  often  very  learned  and  studious  men 
— who  lived  in  a  little  city,  with  only  a  few  inhabitants. 
A  great  king  came  up  against  the  city,  besieged  it, 
threw  up  the  lofty  military  causeway,  as  high  as  the 
walls,  from  which  it  was  the  fashion  of  the  time  to 
deliver  the  assault.  By  his  Archimedian  wit  the  poor 
man  hit  on  a  stratagem  which  saved  the  city ;  but 
though  his  service  was  so  signal,  and  the  city  so  little 
that  the  "  few  men  in  it "  must  have  seen  him  every 
day,  "  yet  no  one  remembered  that  same  poor  man," 
or  lent  a  hand  to  lift  him  from  his  poverty.  Wise 
as  he  was,  his  wisdom  did  not  bring  him  bread,  nor 
riches,  nor  favour  (vv.  13-15).  Therefore,  concludes  the 
Preacher,  wisdom,  great  gift  though  it  is,  and  better,  as 
in  this  instance,  than  "  an  army  to  a  beleaguered  city  " 
(chap,  vii.,  ver.  19),  is  not  of  itself  sufficient  to  secure 
success.  A  poor  man's  wisdom — as  many  an  inventor 
has  found — is  despised  even  by  those  who  profit  by  it. 
Although  his  counsel,  in  the  day  of  extremity,  is  infinitely 


FOURTH  SECTION.  239 

more  valuable  than  the  loud  bluster  of  fools,  or  of  a 
ruler  among  fools,  nevertheless  the  ruler,  because  he 
is  foolish,  may  be  affronted  to  find  one  of  the  poorest 
men  in  the  place  wiser  than  himself;  he  may  easily 
cast  his  "  merit  in  the  eye  of  scorn,"  and  so  rob  him 
both  of  the  honour  and  the  reward  of  his  achievement 
(vv.  16,  17) — an  ancient  saw  not  without  modern 
instances.  For  the  fool  is  a  greater  power  in  the 
world,  especially  the  fool  who  is  wise  in  his  own 
conceit.  Insignificant  in  himself,  he  may  nevertheless 
do  great  harm  and  "  destroy  much  good."  Just  as  a 
tiny  fly,  when  it  is  dead,  may  make  the  sweetest 
ointment  offensive  by  infusing  its  own  evil  savour,  so 
a  man,  when  his  wit  is  gone,  may  with  his  little  folly 
cause  many  sensible  men  to  distrust  the  wisdom  they 
should  honour  (chap,  x.,  ver.  i)  : — who  has  not  met 
such  a  hot-headed  want-wit  in,  for  example,  the  lobbies 
of  the  House  of  Commons  ?  To  a  wise  man,  such  as 
Coheleth,  the  fool,  the  presumptuous  conceited  fool, 
is  "rank  and  smells  to  heaven,"  infesting  sweeter 
natures  than  his  own  with  a  most  pestilent  corruption. 
He  paints  us  a  picture  of  him — paints  it  with  a  keen 
graphic  scorn  which,  if  the  eyes  of  the  fool  were  in 
his  head  (chap,  ii.,  ver.  14),  and  "what  he  is  pleased 
to  call  his  mind "  could  for  a  moment  shift  from  his 
left  hand  to  his  right  (ver.  2),  might  make  him  nearly 
as    contemptible  to   himself  as    he    is    to    others.     As 


240  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

we  read  ver.  3  the  unhappy  wretch  stands  before  us. 
We  see  him  coming  out  of  his  house ;  he  goes  dawdhng 
down  the  street,  for  ever  wandering  from  the  path, 
attracted  by  the  merest  trifle,  staring  at  familiar  objects 
with  eyes  that  have  no  recognition  in  them,  knowing 
neither  himself  nor  others ;  and,  with  pointed  finger, 
chuckles  after  every  sober  citizen  he  meets,  "  There 
goes  a  fool  ! " 

Yet  a  fool  quite  as  foolish  and  malignant  as  this, 
quite  as  indecent  even  in  outward  behaviour,  may  be 
lifted  to  high  place,  and  has  ere  now  sat  on  an  imperial 
throne.^  The  Preacher  had  seen  many  of  them  sud- 
denly raised  to  power,  while  nobles  were  depraved,  and 
high  functionaries  of  State  reduced  to  an  abject  servi- 
tude. Now  if  the  poor  wise  man  have  to  attend  the 
durbar,  or  sit  in  the  divan,  of  a  foolish  capricious 
despot,  how  should  he  bear  himself?  The  Preacher 
counsels  meekness  and  submission.  He  is  to  sit  un- 
ruffled even  though  the  ruler  should  rate  him,  lest  by 
resentment    he    should    provoke  some    graver   outrage 


^  To  cite  only  one  instance  out  of  many — other  instances  may 
be  found  in  the  Introduction — let  the  reader  recall  the  Emperor 
Caligula,  and  refer,  for  example,  to  his  reception  of  the  Alexan- 
drian Jews,  as  recorded  by  Philo,  Legat  ad  Caium,  cc.  44,  45  ; 
or  by  Merivale,  in  his  History  of  the  Romans,  chap,  xlvii.,  pp. 
47-50;  or  by  Milman,  in  his  History  of  the  Jews,  Book  xii.,  pp. 
141-45.  He  will  then  know,  to  quote  the  phrase  of  Apollonius 
of  Tyana,  what  "  the  kind  of  beast  called  a  tyrant"  is  or  may  be. 


FOURTH  SECTION.  241 

(vv.  4-7  :  comp.  chap,  viii.,  ver.  3).  To  strengthen  him 
in  his  submission,  the  Preacher  hints  at  cautions  and 
consolations  which,  because  free  and  open  speech  was 
very  dangerous  under  the  Persian  despotism,  he  wraps 
up  ,in  obscure  maxims  capable  of  a  double  sense — nay, 
as  the  commentators  have  shown,  capable  of  a  good 
many  more  senses  than  two — ^to  the  true  sense  of 
which  "  a  foolish  ruler "  was  by  no  means  likely  to 
penetrate,  even  if  they  fell  into  his  hands. 

The  first  of  these  maxims  is,  "  He  who  diggeth  a 
pit  shall  fall  into  it "  (ver.  8).  And  the  allusion  is,  of 
course,  to  an  Eastern  mode  of  trapping  wild  beasts  and 
game.  The  huntsman  dug  a  pit,  covered  it  with  twigs 
and  sods,  and  strewed  the  surface  with  bait ;  but  as 
he  dug  many  such  pits,  and  some  of  them  were  long 
without  a  tenant,  he  might  at  any  inadvertent  moment 
fall  into  one  of  them  himself  The  proverb  is  capable 
of  at  least  two  interpretations.  It  may  mean  that  the 
foolish  despot,  plotting  the  ruin  of  his  wise  servant, 
might  in  his  anger  go  too  far  ;  and,  betraying  his  inten- 
tion, provoke  a  retaliative  anger  before  which  he  himself 
would  fall.  Or  it  may  mean  that,  should  the  wise 
servant  seek  to  undermine  the  throne  of  the  despot,  he 
might  be  taken  in  his  treachery  and  bring  on  himself 
the  whole  weight  of  the  tyrant's  wrath. 

The  second  maxim  is,  "  Whoso  breaketh  down  a  wall, 
a  serpent  shall  bite  him  "  (ver.  8)  ;  and  here,  of  course, 

16 


242  THE  BOOK  OF  -ECCLESIASTES. 

the  allusion  is  to  the  fact  that  snakes  infect  the  crannies 
of  old  walls  (comp.  Amos  v.  19).  To  set  about  dethron- 
ing a  tyrant  was  like  pulling  down  such  a  wall ;  you 
would  break  up  the  nest  of  many  a  reptile,  many  a 
venomous  hanger-on,  and  might  only  get  bit  or  stung 
for  your  pains.  Or,  again,  in  pulling  out  the  stones 
of  an  old  wall,  you  might  let  one  of  them  fall  on  your 
foot;  and  in  hacking  out  its  timbers,  you  might  cut 
yourself:  that  is  to  say,  even  if  your  conspiracy  did 
not  involve  you  in  absolute  ruin,  it  would  be  only  too 
likely  to  do  you  serious  and  lasting  injury  (ver.  9). 

The  next  adage  runs  (ver.  10),  "  If  the  axe  be  blunt, 
and  he  do  not  whet  the  edge,  he  must  put  on  more 
strength,  but  wisdom  should  teach  him  to  sharpen  it," 
and  is,  perhaps,  the  most  difficult  passage  in  the  Book. 
The  Hebrew  is  read  in  a  different  way  by  almost  every 
translator.  As  I  read  it,  it  means,  in  general,  that  it 
is  not  well  to  work  with  blunt  tools  when  by  a  little 
labour  and  delay  you  may  whet  them  to  a  keener  edge. 
Read  thus,  the  political  rule  implied  in  ii  is,  "  Do  not 
attempt  any  great  enterprise,  any  revolution  or  reform, 
till  you  have  a  well-considered  scheme  to  go  upon,  and 
suitable  instruments  to  carry  it  out  with."  But  the 
special  political  import  of  it  may  be,  "  Your  strength 
is  nothing  to  that  of  the  tyrant ;  do  not  therefore  lift 
a  blunt  axe  against  the  trunk  of  despotism  :  wait  till 
(Voii  have  put  a  sharp  edge  upon  it."     Or,  the  tyrant 


FOURTH  SECTION.  243 


himself  may  be  the  blunt  axe,  and  then  the  warning 
is,  "Sharpen  hiju  up,  repair  him,  use  him  and  his 
caprices  to  serve  your  end ;  get  your  way  by  giving 
way  to  him,  and  by  skilfully  availing  yourself  of  his 
varying  moods."  •  Which  of  these  may  be  the  true 
meanings  of  this  obscure  disputed  passage,  I  do  not 
undertake  to  say ;  but  the  latter  of  the  two  seems  to 
be  sustained  by  the  adage  which  follows :  "  If  the 
serpent  bite  because  it  is  not  charmed,  there  is  no 
advantage  to  the  charmer."  For  here,  I  think,  there 
can  be  little  doubt  that  the  foolish  angry  ruler  is  the 
serpent,  and  the  wise  functionary  the  charmer  who  is 
to  extract  the  venom  of  his  anger.  Let  the  foolish 
ruler  be  never  so  furious,  the  poor  wise  man,  who  is 
able  "to  cull  the  plots  of  best  advantages,"  and  to  save 
a  city,  can  surely  devise  a  charm  of  soft  submissive 
words  which  will  turn  away  his  wrath ;  just  as  the 
serpent-charmer  of  the  East,  by  song  and  incantation, 
is  at  least  reputed  to  draw  serpents  from  their  lurk, 
that  he  may  pluck  the  venom  from  their  teeth  (ver.  11). 
For,  as  we  are  told  in  the  very  next  v^erse,  "  the  words 
of  the  wise  man's  mouth  win  him  grace,  while  the  lips 
of  the  fool  destroy  him." 

And  on  this  hint,  on  this  casual  mention  of  his  name, 
the  Preacher — who  all  this  while,  remember,  is  person- 
ating the  sagacious  man  of  the  world,  bent  on  rising 
t.o    wealth,    power,    distinction — onee    more     "  comes 


244  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

down  "  on  the  fool.  He  speaks  of  him  with  a  burning 
heat  and  contempt,  as  men  versed  in  pubhc  affairs  are 
wont  to  do,  since  they  best  icnow  how  much  harm  a 
voluble,  impudent,  self-conceited  fool  may  do,  how  much 
good  he  may  prevent.  Here,  then,  is  the  fool  of  public 
life.  He  is  a  man  always  prating  and  predicting, 
although  his  words,  only  foolish  at  the  first,  swell  and 
fret  into  a  malignant  madness  before  he  has  done,  and 
although  he  of  all  men  is  least  able  to  give  good  counsel, 
to  seize  occasions  as  they  rise,  or  to  foresee  what  is 
about  to  come  to  pass.  Puffed  up  by  the  conceit  of 
wisdom  or  of  his  own  importance,  he  is  for  ever  inter- 
meddling with  great  affairs,  though  he  has  no  notion 
how  to  handle  them,  and  is  incapable  of  even  finding 
his  way  along  the  beaten  road  which  leads  to  the  capital 
city,  of  taking  and  keeping  the  plain  and  obvious  path 
which  the  exigencies  of  the  time  require ;  while  (ver.  3) 
he  is  forward  to  cry,  "  There  goes  a  fool,"  of  every 
man  who  is  wiser  than  himself  (vv.  12-15).  ^^  he 
would  only  hold  his  tongue,  he  might  pass  muster; 
beguiled  by  his  gravity  and  silence,  men  might  give 
him  credit  for  sagacity,  and  fit  his  foolish  deeds  with 
profound  motives ;  but  he  will  speak,  and  his  words 
betray  and  "  swallow  him  up."  Of  course  we  have  no 
such  fools,  "full  of  words,"  to  rise  in  their  high  place 
and  wag  their  tongues  to  their  own  hurt ;  they  are 
peculiar  to  Anticjuity  or  to  the  East. 


FOURTH  SECTION.  245 

But  then  there  were  so  many  of  them,  and  their 
influence  in  the  State  was  so  disastrous  that,  as  the 
Preacher  thinks  of  them,  he  breaks  into  an  almost 
dithyrambic  fervour,  and  cries,  "  Woe  to  thee,  O  land, 
when  thy  king  is  a  child,^  and  thy  princes  feast  in  the 
morning  J  Happy  art  thou,  O  land,  when  thy  king  is 
noble,  and  thy  princes  eat  at  due  hours,  for  strength 
and  not  for  revelry  ! "  Through  the  sloth  and  riot  of 
these  foolish  rulers,  the  whole  fabric  of  the  State  was 
fast  fading  into  decay — the  roof  rotting  and  the  rain 
leaking  in.  To  support  their  inopportune  and  profligate 
revelry,  they  imposed  crushing  taxes  on  the  people, 
which  inspired  in  some  a  revolutionary  discontent,  and 
in  some  the  apathy  of  despair.  The  Wise  Exile  fore- 
saw that  the  end  of  a  despotism  so  unjust  and  luxurious 
could  not  be  far  off;  that  when  the  storm  rose  and  the 
wind  blew,  the  ancient  House,  unrepaired  in  its  decay, 
would  topple  on  the  heads  of  those  who  sat  in  its  halls, 
revelling  in  a  wicked  mirth  (vv.  16-19).  Meantime, 
the  sagacious  servant  of  the  State,  perchance  too  of 
foreign  extraction,  unable  to  arrest  the  progress  of 
decay,  or  not  caring  how  soon  it  was  consummated, 
would  make  his  "  market  of  the  time ; "  he  would  carry 
himself  warily  :     and,    because    the    whole    land    was 

'  What  Coheleth  means  by  the  king  being  "  a  child  "  is  best 
explained  by  Isa.  iii.  12:  "As  for  my  people,  their  ruler  is  a 
wilful  child,  and  women  rule  over  him." 


246  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

infested  with  the  spies  bred  by  despotism,  he  would 
give  them  no  hold  on  him,  nor  so  much  as  speak  the 
simple  truth  of  his  foolish  debauched  rulers  in  the 
privacy  of  his  own  bed-chamber,  or  mutter  his  thoughts 
on  the  roof,  lest  some  "  bird  of  the  air  should  carry 
the  report  "  (ver.  20). 

But  if  this  were  the  condition  of  the  time,  if  to  rise 
in  public  life  involved  so  many  mean  crafts  and  sub- 
missions, so  many  deadly  imminent  risks  from  spies 
and  from  fools  clad  in  a  little  brief  authority,  how  could 
any  man. hope  to, find  the  Chief  Good  in  it?  Wisdom 
did  not  always  win  promotion  ;  virtue  was  inimical  to 
success.  The  anger  of  an  incapable  idiot,  or  the 
whisper  of  an  envious  rival,  or  the  caprice  of  a  merci- 
less despot,  might  at  any  moment  undo  the  work  of 
years,  and  expose  the  most  upright  and  sagacious  of 
men  to  the  worst  extremities  of  misfortune.  There 
was  no  tranquillity,  no  freedom,  no  security,  no  dignity 
in  such  a  life  as  this.  Till  this  were  resigned  and 
some  nobler,  loftier  aim  found,  there  was  no  chance  of 
reaching  that  great  satisfying  Good  which  lifts  man 
above  all  accidents,  and  fixes  him  in  a  happy  security 
from  which  no  blow  of  Circumstance  can  dislodge 
him. 

What  that  Good  is,  and  where  it  may  be  found,  the 
Preacher  now  proceeds  to  show.     But,  as  his  manner 


FOURTH  SECTION.  247 

is,  he  does  not  say  in  so  many  words,  "This  is  the 
Chief  Good  of  man,"  or  "You  will  find       „  ^. 

'  But  tn  a  wise 

it  yonder  ;  "  but  he  places  before  us  the      Use  a?id  a  wise 
man  who  is  walking  in  the  right  path  and        '»Joymen  0/ 
drawing  closer  and  closer  to  it.     Even  of  Life, 

him  the  Preacher  does  not  give  us  any  *-'^'  ^^•'  ^^'  ^'^^ 
formal  description  ;  but,  following  what  we  have  seen 
to  be  his  favourite  method,  he  gives  us  a  string  of 
maxims  and  counsels  from  which  we  are  to  infer  what 
manner  of  man  he  is  who  happily  achieves  this  great 
Quest. 

And,  at  the  very  outset,  we  learn  that  this  happy 
person  is  of  a  noble,  unselfish,  generous  temper.  Un- 
like the  man  who  simply  wants  to  get  on  and  make  a 
fortune,  he  grudges  no  man  his  gains  ;  he  looks  on  his 
neighbours'  interests  as  well  as  his  own,  and  does 
good  even  to  the  evil  and  the  unthankful.^  He  is  one 
who  "  casts  his  bread  upon  the  waters  "  (ch.  xi.,  ver.  i), 
and  who  "  gives  a  portion  thereof  to  seven,  and  even 
to  eight  "  (ver.  2).  The  familiar  proverb  of  the  first 
verse  has  long  been  read  as  an  allusion  to  the  sowing 


1  One  of  the  most  elaborate  proverbs  in  the  Talmud  is  on 
Charity  : — "  Iron  breaks  the  stone,  fire  melts  iron,  water  extin- 
guishes fire,  the  clouds  drink  up  the  water,  a  storm  drives  away 
the  clouds,  man  withstands  the  storm,  fear  unmans  man,  wine 
dispels  fear,  sleep  drives  away  wine,  and  death  sweeps  all  away 
— even  sleep.     But  Solompn  the  Wise  says,  Charity  saves  from 


248  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

of  rice  and  other  grain  from  a  boat,  during  the  periodical 
inundation  of  certain  Eastern  rivers,  especially  the 
Nile.  We  have  been  taught  to  regard  the  husbandman 
pushing  from  the  embanked  village  in  his  frail  bark,  to 
cast  the  grain  he  would  gladly  eat  on  the  surface  of 
the  flood,  as  a  type  of  Christian  labour  and  charity. 
He  denies  himself;  so  also  must  we  if  we  would  do 
good.  He  has  faith  in  the  Divine  laws,  and  trusts  to 
receive  his  own  again  with  usury,  to  reap  a  larger  crop 
the  longer  he  waits  for  it ;  and,  in  like  manner,  we  are 
to  trust  in  the  Divine  laws  which  bring  us  a  hundred- 
fold for  every  act  of  self-denying  service,  and  bless  our 
"  long  patience  "  with  the  ampler  harvest.  But  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  Hebrew  usns  loqiicndi  admits  of 
this  interpretation.  It  probably  suggests  another  which, 
if  unfamiliar  to  us,  has  a  beauty  of  its  own.  In  the 
East  bread  is  commonly  made  in  thin  flat  cakes,  some- 
thing  like  Passover  cakes ;    and    one    of  these    cakes 

death."  And  there  is  hardly  a  finer  passage  in  Shakespeare's 
Sonnets  than  that  (CXVI.)  in  which  he  sings  the  disinterestedness 
of  Love,  and  its  superiority  to  all  change  : 

"  Love  is  not  love 
Which  alters  when  it  alteration  finds, 
Or  bends  with  the  remover  to  remove. 
4^  %  -^  ■jf.  ^  % 

Love's  not  Time's  fool,  thougli  rosy  lips  and  checks 
Within  his  bending  sickle's  compass  come  ; 
Love  alters  not  with  his  brief  hours  and  weeks, 
But  bears  it  out  even  to  the  edge  of  doom." 


FOURTH  SECTION.  249 


flung  on  the  stream,  though  it  would  float  with  the 
current  for  a  time,  would  soon  sink  ;  and  once  sunk 
would,  unlike  the  grain  cast  from  the  boat,  yield  no 
return.  And  our  charity  should  be  like  that.  We 
should  do  good,  "  hoping  for  nothing  again."  We 
should  show  kindnesses  which  will  soon  be  forgotten, 
never  be  returned,  and  be  undismayed  by  the  thank- 
lessness  of  the  task.  It  is  not  so  thankless  as  it  seems. 
For,  first,  we  shall  "  find  the  good  of  it  "  in  the  loftier, 
more  generous  temper  which  the  habit  of  doing  good 
breeds  and  confirms.  If  no  one  else  be  the  better  for 
our  kindness,  we  shall  be  the  better,  because  the  more 
kindly,  for  it.  The  quality  of  charity,  like  that  of 
mercy,  is  twice  blessed  ; 

"  It  blesseth  him  that  gives  and  him  that  takes." 

And,  again,  the  task  is  not  so  thankless  as  it  sometimes 
seems  ;  for  though  many  of  our  kind  deeds  may  quicken 
no  kindness  in  "him  that  takes,"  yet  some  of  them 
will ;  and  the  more  we  help  and  succour  the  more 
likely  are  we  to  light  upon  at  least  a  few  who,  when 
our  need  comes,  will  succour  and  console  us.  Even 
the  most  hardened  have  a  certain  tenderness  for  those 
who  help  them,  if  only  the  help  meet  a  real  need,  and 
be  given  with  grace.  And,  therefore,  we  may  be  very 
sure  that  if  we  give  a  portion  of  our  bread  to  seven 
and   even   to  eight,  especially  if  they   know  that  we 


250  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

ourselves  have  stomach  for  it  all,  at  least  one  or  two 
of  them  will  share  with  us  when  we  need  bread. 

But  is  not  this,  after  all,  only  a  refined  selfishness  ? 
If  we  give  because  we  do  not  know  how  soon  we  may 
need  a  gift,  and  in  order  that  we  may  by-and-bye 
"  find  the  good  of  it,"  do  not  even  the  heathen  and  the 
publicans  the  same  ?  Well,  not  many  of  them,  I  think. 
I  have  not  observed  that  it  is  their  habit  to  cast  their 
bread  on  thankless  waters.  If  they  forbode  calamity 
and  loss,  they  provide  against  them,  not  by  giving, 
but  by  hoarding ;  and  even  they  themselves  would 
hardly  accept  as  a  model  of  charity  a  man  who  but- 
toned up  his  pocket  against  every  appeal,  lest  he  should 
be  yielding  to  a  selfish  motive,  or  be  suspected  of  it. 
The  refined  selfishness  of  showing  kindness  and  doing 
good  even  to  the  evil  and  the  unthankful  because  we 
hope  to  find  the  good  of  it  is  by  no  means  too  common 
yet ;  we  need  not  go  in  dread  of  it.  Nor  is  it  an 
altogether  unworthy  motive.  St.  Paul  urges  us  to  help 
a  fallen  brother  on  the  express  ground  that  we  may 
need  similar  help  some  day  (Gal.  vi.  i)  ;  and  he  was 
not  in  the  habit  of  appealing  to  base  motives.  Nay, 
the  very  Golden  Rule  itself,  which  a:ll  men  admire  even 
if  they  do  not  walk  by  it,  touches  this  spring  of  action  ; 
for  among  other  meanings  it  surely  has  this,  that  we 
are  to  do  to  others  as  we  would  that  they  should  do  to 
us,  in  the  hope  that  they  will  do  to  us  as  we  have  done 


FOURTH  SECTION.  251 

to  them.  There  are  other  higher  meanings  in  the  Rule 
of  course,  as  there  are  other  and  purer  motives  for 
Charity  ;  but  I  do  not  know  that  we  are  any  of  us  of 
so  lofty  a  virtue  that  we  need  fear  to  show  kindness 
in  order  to  win  kindness,  or  to  give  help  that  we  may 
get  help  when  we  need  it.  Possibly,  to  act  on  this 
motive^may  be  the  best  and  nearest  way  of  rising  to 
such  higher  motives  as  we  can  reach. 

The  first  characteristic,  then,  of  the  man  who  is 
likely  to  achieve  the  Quest  of  the  Chief  Good  is  the 
Charity  which  prompts  him  to  be  gracious,  and  to  show 
kindness,  and  to  do  good,  even  to  the  thankless  and 
ungracious.  And  his  second  characteristic  is  the  sted- 
fast  Industry  which  turns  all  seasons  to  account.  The 
man  of  affairs,  who  wants  to  rise,  waits  on  occasion  ; 
he  is  on  the  watch  to  avail  himself  of  the  moods  and 
caprices  of  men  and  bend  them  to  his  interest.  But  he 
who  has  learned  to  value  things  at  their  true  worth, 
and  whose  heart  is  fixed  on  the  acquisition  of  the 
highest  good,  does  not  want  to  get  on  so  muchc^;^  to 
do  his  duty  under  all  the  variable  conditions  of  life. 
Just  as  he  will  not  withhold  his  hand  from  giving,  lest 
some  of  the  recipients  of  his  charity  should  prove  un- 
worthy, so  also  he  will  not  withdraw  his  hand  from  the 
labour  appointed  him,  because  this  or  that  endeavour 
may  be  unproductive,  or  lest  it  should  be  thwarted  by 
the  ordinances  of  Heaven.     He  knows  that  the  laws  of 


253  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES, 

Nature  will  hold  on  their  way,  often  causing  individual 
loss  to  promote  the  general  good.  He  knows,  for  in- 
stance, that  when  the  clouds  are  full  of  rain  they  ivill 
empty  themselves  upon  the  earth,  even  though  they  put 
his  harvest  in  peril ;  and  that  when  the  wind  is  fierce 
it  will  blow  down  trees,  even  though  it  should  also 
scatter  the  seed  which  he  is  sowing.  But  he  does  not 
therefore  wait  upon  the  wind  till  it  is  too  late  to  sow, 
nor  upon  the  clouds  till  his  ungathered  crops  rot  in  the 
fields.  He  is  conscious  that,  though  he  knows  much, 
he  knows  little  of  these  as  of  other  works  of  God  :  he 
cannot  tell  whether  this  or  that  tree  will  be  blown 
down  ;  almost  all  he  can  be  certain  of  is  that,  when 
the  tree  is  down,  it  will  lie  where  it  has  fallen,  lifting 
its  bleeding  roots  in  dumb  protest  against  the  wind 
which  has  brought  it  low.  But  tJiis  too  he  knows, 
that  it  is  "  God  who  worketh  all ;  "  that  Jie  is  not  re- 
sponsible for  events  beyond  his  control :  that  what  he 
is  responsible  for  is  that  he  do  the  duty  of  the  moment 
whatever  wind  may  blow,  and  calmly  leave  the  issue 
in  the  hand  of  God.  And  so  he  is  not  "  over  exquisite 
to  cast  the  fashion  of  uncertain  evils ;  "  diligent  and 
undismayed,  he  goes  on  his  way,  giving  himself  heartily 
to  the  present  duty,  "sowing  his  seed  morning  and 
evening,  although  he  cannot  tell  which  shall  prosper, 
this  or  that,  or  whether  both  shall  prove  good  "  (vv.  Z-^)- 
Windy    March    cannot    blow    him    from    his    constant 


FOURTH  SECTION.  253 

purpose,  though  it  may  blow  the  seed  out  of  his  hand  ; 
nor  a  rainy  August  melt  him  to  despairing  tears,  though 
it  may  damage  his  harvest.  He  has  done  his  duty, 
discharged  his  responsibility  :  let  God  see  to  the  rest ; 
whatever  pleases  God  will  content  him. 

This  man,  then,  has  learned  one  or  two  of  the  pro- 
foundest  secrets  of  Wisdom,  plain  as  they  look.  He 
has  learned  that,  giving,  we  gain ;  and,  spending, 
thrive.  He  has  also  learned  that  a  man's  true  care  is 
himself;  that  all  that  pertains  to  the  body,  to  the  issues 
of  labour,  to  the  chances  of  fortune,  is  external  to  him- 
self;  that  whatever  form  these  may  take,  he  may  learn 
from  them,  and  profit  by  them,  and  be  content  in  them  : 
that  his  true  business  in  the  world  is  to  cultivate  a 
strong  and  dutiful  character  which  shall  prepare  him 
for  any  world  or  any  fate  ;  and  that  so  long  as  he  can 
do  this,  his  main  duty  will  be  done,  his  ruling  object 
attained.     Totum  in  eo  est,  ut  tibi  imperes} 

Is  not  this  true  wisdom  ?  is  it  not  an  abiding  good  ? 
Pleasures  may  bloom  and  fade.  Speculations  may 
shift  and  change.  Riches  may  come  and  go — what 
else  have  they  wings  for  ?  The  body  may  sicken  or 
strengthen.  The  favour  of  men  may  be  conferred  and 
withdrawn.  There  is  no  stability  in  these  ;  and  if  we 
are    dependent    on    them,    we    shall    be    variable    and 

^  Cicero,  Tnsc,  lib.  II.,  cap.  22. 


254  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

inconstant  as  they  are.  But  if  we  make  it  our  chief  aim 
to  do  our  duty  whatever  it  may  be,  and  to  love  and  serve 
our  neighbour  whatever  the  attitude  he  may  assume  to 
us,  we  have  an  aim  always  within  our  reach,  a  duty 
we  may  always  be  doing,  a  good  as  enduring  as  our- 
selves, and  therefore  a  good  we  may  enjoy  for  ever. 
Standing  on  this  rock,  from  which  no  wave  of  change 
can  sweep  us,  "  the  light  will  be  sweet  to  us,  and  it 
shall  be  pleasant  to  our  eyes  to  behold  the  sun,"  what- 
ever the  day,  or  the  world,  on  which  he  may  rise  (ver.  7). 
But  is  all  our  life  to  be  taken  up  in  meeting  the 
claims  of  Duty  and  of  Charity  ?  Are  we  never  to  relax 
into  mirth,  never  to  look  forward  to  a  time  in  which 
reward  will  be  more  exactly  adjusted  to  service  ?  Yes, 
we  are  to  do  both  this  and  that.  It  is  very  true  that 
he  who  makes  it  his  ruling  aim  to  do  the  present  duty, 
and  to  leave  the  future  with  God,  will  have  a  happy 
because  a  useful  life.     He  that  walks  this  path  of  duty 

"  only  thirsting 
For  the  right,  and  learns  to  deaden 
Love  of  self,  before  his  journey  closes, 
He  shall  find  the  stubborn  thistle  bursting 
Into  glossy  purples,  which  outredden 
All  voluptuous  garden  roses." 

The  path  may  often  be  steep  and  difficult ;  it  may  be 
overhung  with  threatening  rocks  and  strewn  with 
"  stones    of    offence ; "    but   he    who    pursues    it,    still 


FOURTH  SECTION.  255 

pressing  on  "through  the  long  gorge"  and  winning 
his  way  upward, 

"  Shall  find  the  toppling  crags  of  Duty  scaled, 
Are  close  upon  the  shining  table-lands 
To  which  our  God  Himself  is  sun  and  moon." 

Nevertheless,  if  his  life  is  to  be  full  and  complete,  he 
must  be  able  to  pluck  whatever  bright  flowers  of  joy 
spring  beside  his  path,  to  find  "  laughing  waters  "  in 
the  crags  he  climbs,  and  to  rejoice  not  only  in  "  the 
glossy  purples  "  of  the  armed  and  stubborn  thistle,  but 
in  the  delicate  beauty  of  the  ferns,  the  pure  grace  of 
the  cyclamens,  and  the  sweet  breath  of  the  fragrant 
grasses  and  flowers  which  haunt  those  severe  heights. 
If  he  is  to  be  a  Man,  rather  than  a  Stoic  or  an  Anchorite, 
he  must  add  to  his  sense  of  duty  a  keen  delight  in  all 
beauty,  all  grace,  all  innocent  and  noble  pleasure.  For 
the  sake  of  others,  too,  as  well  as  for  his  own  sake,  he 
must  carry  with  him  "the  merry  heart  which  doeth 
good  like  a  medicine,"  since,  lacking  that,  he  will  neither 
do  all  the  good  he  might,  nor  himself  become  perfect 
and  complete.  And  it  is  proof,  I  think,  of  the  good 
divinity,  no  less  than  of  the  broad  humanity,  of  the 
Preacher  that  he  lays  much  stress  on  this  point.  He 
not  only  bids  us  enjoy  life,  but  gives  us  cogent  reasons 
for  enjoying  it.  "  Even,"  he  says,  "  if  a  man  should 
live  many  years,  he  ought  to  enjoy  them  all."  But 
why  ?     "  Because  there  will  be  many  dark  days,"  days 


256  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

of  old  age  and  growing  infirmity  in  which  pleasures 
will  lose  their  charm ;  days  of  death  through  which  he 
will  sleep  quietly  in  the  dark  stillness  of  the  grave, 
beyond  the  touch  of  any  happy  excitement  (ver.  8). 
Therefore  the  man  who  attains  the  Chief  Good  will  not 
only  do  the  duty  of  the  moment ;  he  will  also  enjoy  the 
pleasure  of  the  moment.  He  will  not  toil  through  the 
long  day  of  life  till,  spent  and  weary,  he  has  no  power 
to  enjoy  his  "  much  goods,"  or  no  time  for  his  soul  to 
"make  merry  the  glad."  While  he  is  "  a  young  man," 
he  will  "  rejoice  in  his  youth,  and  let  his  heart  cheer 
him,"  and  go  after  the  pleasures  which  attract  youth 
(ver.  9).  While  his  heart  is  still  fresh,  when  pleasures 
are  most  innocent  and  healthful,  easiest  of  attainment 
and  unalloyed  by  anxiety  and  care,  he  will  cultivate 
that  cheerful  temper  which  is  a  prime  safeguard 
against  vice,  discontent,  and  the  morose  fretfulness  of  a 
selfish  old  age. 

But,  soft ;  is  not  our  man  of  men  becoming  a  mere 
man  of  pleasure  ?  No ;  for  he  recognises  the  claims 
of  Duty  and  of  Charity.     These  keep  his      ^    ..    ,     .,, 

■'  ^  jT  Combined  with 

pleasures  sweet  and  wholesome,  prevent      a  stedfast  Faith 

,  1  r  ■  ii  1     1  J  in-  the  Life  to 

them  trom  usurpmg  the  whole  man,  and 

'       °  '  co7ne. 

landing  him  in  the  satiety  and  weariness  Ch.x.,  v.  9-Ch. 
of  dissipation.     But  lest  even  these  safe-  ■'^"•'  "•  7- 

guards  should  prove  insufficient,  he  has  also  this  :  he 
knows  that  "  God  will  bring  him  into  judgment ;  "  that 


FOURTH  SECTION.  257 

all  his  works,  whether  of  charity  or  duty  or  recreation, 
will  be  weighed  in  the  pure  and  even  balance  of  Divine 
Justice  (ver.  9).  This  is  the  secret  of  the  pure  heart — 
the  heart  that  is  kept  pure  amid  all  labours  and  cares 
and  joys.  But  the  intention  of  the  Preacher  in  thus 
adverting  to  the  Divine  Judgment  has  been  gravely 
misconstrued,  wrested  even  to  its  very  opposite.  We 
too  much  forget  what  that  Judgment  must  have  seemed 
to  the  enslaved  Jews  ; — how  weighty  a  consolation, 
how  bright  a  hope  !  They  were  captive  exiles,  oppressed 
by  profligate  despotic  lords.  Cleaving  to  the  Divine 
Law  with  a  passionate  loyalty  such  as  they  had  never 
felt  in  happier  days,  they  were  nevertheless  exposed  to 
the  most  dire  and  constant  misfortunes.  All  the  bless- 
ings which  the  Law  pronounced  on  the  obedient  seemed 
withheld  from  them,  all  its  promises  of  good  and  peace 
to  be  falsified  ;  the  wicked  triumphed  over  them,  and 
prospered  in  their  wickedness.  Now  to  a  people  whose 
convictions  and  hopes  had  suffered  this  miserable 
defeat,  what  truth  would  be  more  welcome  than  that 
of  a  life  to  come,  in  which  all  wrongs  should  be  both 
righted  and  avenged,  and  all  the  promises  in  which  they 
had  hoped  should  receive  a  large  fulfilment  that  would 
beggar  hope  ?  what  prospect  could  be  more  cheerful 
and  consolatory  than  that  of  a  day  of  retribution  on 
which  their  oppressors  would  be  put  to  shame,  and 
they  would  be  recompensed  for  their  fidelity  to  the  law 

17 


25S  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

of  God  ?  This  hope  would  be  sweeter  to  them  than 
any  pleasure ;  it  would  lend  a  new  zest  to  every  pleasure, 
and  make  them  more  zealous  in  good  works. 

Nay,  we  know,  from  the  Psalms  composed  during  the 
Captivity,  that  the  judgment  of  God  was  an  incentive 
to  hope  and  joy ;  that,  instead  of  fearing  it,  the  pious 
Jews  looked  forward  to  it  with  rapture  and  exultation. 
What,  for  example,  can  be  more  riant  and  joyful  than 
the  concluding  strophe  of  Psalm  xcvi.  ? 

Let  the  heavens  rejoice,  and  let  the  earth  be  glad ; 

Let  the  sea  roar,  and  the  fulness  thereof; 

Let  the  field  exult  and  all  that  therein  is  ; 

And  let  all  the  trees  of  the  wood  sing  for  joy 

Before  Jehovah  :  for  He  cometh, 

For  He  cometh  to  judge  the  earth, 

To  judge  the  world  with  righteousness, 

And  the  peoples  with  his  truth  ; 

or  than  the  third  strophe  of  Psalm  xcviii.  ?    ' 

Let  the  sea  roar,  and  the  fulness  thereof  ; 

The  world,  and  they  that  dwell  therein  ; 

Let  the  floods  clap  their  hands, 

And  let  the  hills  sing  for  joy  together 

Before  Jehovah :  for  He  cometh  to  judge  the  earth  ; 

With  righteousness  shall  He  judge  the  world, 

And  the  peoples  with  equity. 

It  is  impossible  to  read  these  verses,  and  such  verses 
as  these,  without  feeling  that  the  Jews  of  the  Captivity 
anticipated   the  Divine  Judgment,   not  with    fear   and 


FOURTH  SECTION.  259 

dread,  but  with  a  hope  and  joy  so  deep  and  keen  as 
that  they  summoned  the  whole  round  of  Nature  to 
share  in  it  and  reflect  it. 

If  we  remembered  this,  we  should  not  so  readily 
agree  with  the  Preachers  and  Commentators  who 
assume  Coheleth  to  be  speaking  ironically  in  this  verse, 
and  as  though  he  would  defy  his  readers  to  enjoy  their 
pleasures  with  the  thought  of  God  and  his  judgment 
of  them  in  their  minds.  We  should  rather  understand 
that  he  was  making  life"  more  cheerful  to  them  ;  that 
he  was  removing  the  blight  of  despair  which  had  fallen 
on  it ;  that  he  was  kindling  in  their  dreary  prospect 
a  light  which  would  shine  even  into  their  darkened 
present  with  gracious  and  healing  rays.  All  wrongs 
would  be  easier  to  bear,  all  duties  would  be  faced  with 
better  heart,  all  alleviating  pleasures  would  grow  more 
welcome,  if  once  the}^  were  fully  persuaded  that  there 
w'as  a  life  beyond  death,  a  life  in  which  the  good  would 
be  "comforted"  and  the  evil  "tormented."  It  is  on 
the  express  ground  that  there  is  a  Judgment  that  the 
Preacher,  in  the  last  verse  of  this  chapter,  bids  them 
banish  "  care "  and  "  sadness,"  or,  as  the  words  per- 
haps mean,  ''  moroseness  "  and  "  trouble  ;  "  though  he 
also  adds  another  reason  which  no  longer  afflicts  him 
much,  viz.,  that  "youth  and  manhood  are  vanity,"  soon 
gone,  never  to  be  recalled,  and  never  enjoj^ed  if  the 
brief  occasion  is  suffered  to  pass. 


26o  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

Mark  how  quickly  the  force  of  this  great  hope  has 
reversed  his  position.  Only  in  ver.  8,  the  very  instant 
before  he  discloses  his  hope,  he  urges  men  to  enjoy 
the  present  "  because  all  that  is  coming  is  vanity," 
because  there  were  so  many  dark  days,  days  of  infirm 
querulous  age  and  silent  dreary  death  before  them. 
But  here,  in  ver,  lO,  the  very  moment  he  has  dis- 
closed his  hope,  he  urges  them  to  enjoy  the  present, 
not  because  the  future  is  vanity,  but  because  the  present 
is  vanity,  because  youth  and  manhood  soon  pass  and 
the  pleasures  proper  to  them  will  be  out  of  reach.  Why 
should  they  any  longer  be  fretted  with  care  and  anxiety 
when  the  lamp  of  Revelation  shone  so  brightly  on  the 
future  ?  Why  should  they  not  be  cheerful  when  so 
happy  a  prospect  lay  before  them  ?  Why  should  they 
sit  brooding  over  their  wrongs  when  their  wrongs  were 
so  soon  to  be  righted,  and  they  were  to  enter  on  so 
ample  a  recompense  of  reward  ?  Why  should  they  not 
travel  toward  a  future  so  welcome  and  inviting  with 
hearts  attuned  to  mirth  and  responsive  to  every  touch 
of  pleasure  ? 

But  is  the  thought  of  Judgment  to  be  no  check  on 
our  pleasures  ?  Well,  it  is  certainly  used  here  as  an 
incentive  to  pleasure,  to  cheerfulness.  We  are  to 
be  happy  because  we  are  to  stand  at  the  bar  of  God, 
because  in  the  Judgment  He  will  adjust  and  compen- 
sate all   the  wrongs  and  afflictions  of  time.     But  it  is 


FOURTH  SECTION.  261 

not  every  one  who  can  take  to  himself  the  full  comfort 
of  this  argument.  Only  he  can  do  that  who  makes  it 
his  ruling  aim  to  do  his  duty  and  help  his  neighbour. 
And  no  doubt  even  he  will  find  the  hope  of  judgment 
— for  with  him  it  is  a  hope  rather  than  a  fear — a 
valuable  check,  not  on  his  pleasures,  but  on  those  base 
counterfeits  which  often  pass  for  pleasures,  and  which 
betray  men,  through  voluptuousness,  into  satiety,  dis- 
gust, remorse.  Because  he  hopes  to  meet  God,  and  has 
to  give  account  of  himself  to  God,  he  will  resist  the  evil 
lusts  which  pollute  and  degrade  the  soul :  and  thus 
the  prospect  of  Judgment  will  become  a  safeguard  and 
a  defence. 

But  he  has  a  safeguard  of  even  a  more  sovereign 
potency  than  this.  For  he  not  only  looks  forward  to  a 
future  judgment,  he  is  conscious  of  a  present  and  con- 
stant judgment.  God  is  with  him  wherever  he  goes. 
From  "  the  days  of  his  youth  "  he  has  "remembered  his 
Creator"  (chap,  xii.,  ver.  i).  He  has  remembered  Him, 
and  given  to  the  poor  and  needy.  He  has  remembered 
Him  and,  doing  all  things  as  to  Him,  duty  has  grown 
light.  He  has  remembered  Him,  and  his  pleasures 
have  grown  the  sweeter  because  they  were  gifts  from 
Heaven,  and  because  he  has  taken  them,  in  a  thankful 
spirit,  for  a  temperate  enjoyment.  Of  all  safeguards  to 
a  life  of  virtue,  this  is  the  noblest  and  the  best.  We 
can   afford,  indeed,  to   part  with   none  of  them,  for  we 


262  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

are  strangely  weak,  often  where  we  least  suspect  it, 
and  need  all  the  helps  we  can  get  :  but  least  of  all  can 
we  afford  to  part  with  this.  We  need  to  remember  that 
every  sin  is  punished  here  and  now,  inwardly  if  not 
outwardly,  and  that  these  inward  punishments  are  the 
most  severe.  We  need  to  remember  that  we  must  all 
appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  God,  to  render  an 
account  of  the  deeds  done  in  the  body.  But  above  all 
— if  love,  and  not  fear,  is  to  be  the  animating  motive  of 
our  life — we  need  to  remember  that  God  is  always  with 
us,  observing  what  we  do  ;  and  that,  not  that  He  may 
spy  upon  us  and  accumulate  heavy  charges  against  us, 
but  that  He  may  help  us  to  do  well ;  not  to  frown 
upon  our  pleasures,  but  to  hallow,  deepen,  and  prolong 
them,  and  to  be  Himself  our  Chief  Good  and  our 
Supreme  Delight. 

"  '  Live  while  you  live,'  the  Epicure  would  say, 
'  And  seize  the  pleasure  of  the  present  day.'  « 

'  Live  while  you  live,'  the  Sacred  Preacher  cries, 
'  And  give  to  God  each  moment  as  it  flies.' 
Lord,  in  my  view  let  both  united  be  : 
I  live  in  pleasure  while  I  live  in  Thee."  ^ 

Finally,  the  Preacher  enforces  this  earl}^  and  habitual 
reference  of  the  soul  to  the  Divine  Presence  and  Will 
by  a  brief  allusion  to  the  impotence  and  weariness  of  a 


^  Dum  vivimus  vivanuis. — Doddridge. 


FOURTH  SECTION.  263 

godless  old  age,  and  by  a  very  striking  description  of 
the  terrors  of  the  death  in  which  it  culminates. 

While  "  the  dew  of  youth "  is  still  fresh  upon  us 
we  are  to  "  remember  our  Creator "  and  his  constant 
judgment  of  us  lest,  forgetting  Him,  we  should  waste 
our  powers  in  sensual  excess  ;  lest  temperate  mirth 
should  degenerate  into  an  extravagant  and  wanton 
devotion  to  pleasure  ;  lest  the  lust  of  mere  physical 
enjoyment  should  outlive  the  power  to  enjoy,  and, 
groaning  under  the  penalties  our  unbridled  indulgence 
has  provoked,  we  should  find  "  days  of  evil "  rise  on 
us  in  long  succession,  and  draw  out  into  "years"  of 
fruitless  desire,  self-disgust,  and  despair  (ver.  i). 
"  Before  the  evil  days  come,"  and  that  they  may  not 
come  ;  before  "  the  years  arrive  of  which  we  shall  say, 
I  have  no  pleasure  in  them,"  and  that  they  may  not 
arrive,  we  are  to  bethink  us  of  the  Pure  and  Awful 
Presence  in  which  we  daily  stand.  God  is  with  us 
that  we  may  not  sin  ;  with  us  in  youth,  that  "  the 
angel  of  his  Presence  "  may  save  us  from  the  sins  to 
which  youth  is  prone  ;  with  us,  to  save  us  from  "  the 
noted  slips  of  youth  and  liberty,"  that  our  closing 
years  may  have  the  cheerful  serenity  of  a  happy  old 
age. 

To  this  admonition  drawn  from  the  miseries  of  god- 
less age,  the  Preacher  appends  a  description  of  the 
terrors  of  approaching  death  (vv.  2-5), — a  description 


264  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

which  has  suffered  many  strange  torments  at  the  hands 
of  critics  and  commentators.  It  has  commonly  been 
read  as  an  allegorical,  but  singularly  accurate,  dia- 
gnosis of  "  the  disease  men  call  death,"  as  setting  forth 
in  graphic  figures  the  gradual  decay  of  sense  after 
sense,  faculty  after  faculty.^     Learned  physicians  have 

'  It  may  be  worth  while  to  specify  some  of  the  gross  and 
absurd  conjectures,  some  also  of  the  strange  differences,  into 
which  what  may  be  called  the  medical  reading  of  this  passage 
has  betrayed  its  advocates.  Ginsburg  has  a  marvellous  collection 
of  them  in  his  "notes"  to  these  verses.  I  select  and  combine 
only  a  few  of  them.  The  darkening  of  the  light,  the  sun,  the 
moon,  and  the  stars  (ver.  2)  is  taken  by  one  great  authority  (the 
Talmud)  to  mean  the  darkening  of  the  forehead ,  the  nose,  the  soitl, 
and  the  teeth  ;  by  another  (the  Chaldee  Paraphrast),  the  obscur- 
ing of  tlicface,  the  eyes,  the  cheeks,  and  the  apples  of  the  eyes  ;  by 
a  third  (Dr.  Smith,  in  his  "  Portraiture  of  Old  Age  "),  for  the  decay 
of  all  the  mental  faculties.  That  "the  clouds  return  after  the 
rain  "  signifies,  according  to  Ibn  Ezra,  the  constant  dimness  of  the 
eyes ;  according  to  Le  Clerc,  a  bad  ittfluenza,  accompanied  with 
unceasing  S7ittffling.  "  The  keepers  of  the  house  "  (ver.  3)  are 
the  rids  afid  the  loins  (Talmud),  the  knees  (Chaldee),  and  the 
hatids  a7id  arms  (Ibn  Ezra).  "The  men  of  power"  are  the 
thighs  (Talmud)  and  the  arms  (Chaldee).  "  The  grinding  maids  " 
are  tJie  teeth,  and  "  the  ladies  who  look  out  of  the  lattices  "'  are  the 
eyes,  by  general  consent.  "  The  door  closed  on  the  street "  is 
the  p07-es  of  the  skin  (Dr.  Smith),  the  lips  (Ibn  Ezra),  and  the  eyes 
(Henstenberg).  That  "  the  noise  of  the  mills  ceases  "  or  "  grows 
faint "  (ver.  4)  means  that  the  mastication  of  food  becomes  im- 
perfect (Dr.  Smith),  that  the  appetite  fails  (Chaldee),  that  the  voice 
grows  feeble  (Grotius).  That  "  the  songbirds  descend  to  their 
nests  "  signifies  that  music  and  songs  are  a  bore  to  the  aged  man 


FOURTH  SECTION.  265 


written  treatises  upon  it,  and  have  been  lost  in  admira- 
tion of  the  force  and  beauty  of  the  metaphors  in  which 
it  conveys  the  results  of  their  special  science,  although 
they  differ  in  their  interpretation  of  almost  every  sen- 
tence, and  are  driven  at  times  to  the  most  gross  and 
absurd  conjectures   in    order   to    sustain   their  several 

(Talmud),  that  he  is  7W  longer  able  to  sing  (Chaldee),  that  his 
eai's  are  heavy  (Grotius).  The  allusion  to  "  the  almond  "  (ver.  5) 
denotes  that  the  haunch-bone  shall  cotne  out  from  leanness  (Tal- 
mud), or  (Reynolds)  it  denotes  the  hoary  hair  which  C07?ies  q7(ickly 
on  a  man  just  as  the  almond-tree  thrusts  out  her  blossoms  before 
any  other  tree  ;  while  at  least  half-a-dozen  scholars  and  physi- 
cians take  it  as  pointing  to  membrutn  gc7iitale  or  gla7is  vi/ilis. 
That  "the  locust  becomes  a  burden"  means  that  the  a7iklcs 
^7fc// (Chaldee),  gottt  i7t  the  feet  (Jerome),  a  p7-ojecti7ig  sto77iach 
(Le  Clerc),  the  dry  shrivelled frai/ie  of  a7i  old  77ia7i  (Dr.  Smith). 
Almost  all  modern  commentators  take  the  reference  to  "  the 
caper-berry "  as  marking  the  fact  that  condiments  lose  their 
power  to  provoke  appetite  with  the  aged,  while  many  of  the 
ancients  took  it  as  marking  the  failure  of  sexual  desire.  The 
"silver  cord"  and  "golden  bowl"  of  ver.  6  are  the  to7ig7ie  a7id 
the  sk7tll  (Chaldee),  bachbo7te  a7id  b7-ai7i  (Dr.  Smith),  7i7-i7ie  a7id 
bladder  (Gasper  Sanctius)  ;  while  the  "  bucket "  is  either  tJie  gall 
or  the  right  ve7ttricle  of  the  heart,  and  "the  wheel  "  tliat  draws 
the  water  stands  for  the  air-i7ispi7i7ig  lit7igs. 

Now  of  course  it  would  not  be  just  to  condemn  any  interpreta- 
tion simply  because  it  is  weighted  with  absurdities  and  contra- 
dictions such  as  these,  though  it  surely  requires  a  very  strong 
reading  to  carry  them.  But  when  an  interpretation  is  so  ob- 
viously forced  and  fanciful,  when  it  is  so  remarkably  ingenious 
and  leaves  to  ingenuity  so  wide  and  lawless  a  scope,  we  shall  do 
well  to  hesitate  before  accepting  it.     And  if  another  interpreta- 


266  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

theories.  I  need  not  give  any  detailed  account  of 
these  speculations,  for  the  simple  reason  that  they  are 
based,  as  I  believe,  on  an  entire  misconception  of  the 
Sacred  Text.  Instead  of  being,  as  has  been  assumed,  a 
figurative  description  of  the  dissolution  of  the  body,  it 
sets  forth  the  threatening  approach  of  death  under  the 
image  of  a  tempest  which,  gathering  over  an  Eastern 
city  during  the  day,  breaks  upon  it  toward  evening : 
so,  at  least,  I,  with  many  more,  take  it.  And  I  do  not 
know  how  we  can  better  arrive  at  it  than  by  consider- 
ing what  would  be  the  incidents  which  would  strike  us 
if  we  were  to  stroll  through  the  narrow  tortuous  streets 
of  such  a  city  as  the  day  was  closing  in. 

As  we  passed  along  we  should  find  small  rows  of 
houses  and  shops,  broken  here  and  there  by  a  wide 
stretch  of  blank  wall,  behind  which  were  the  mansions, 
harems,  courtyards  of  its  wealthier  inhabitants.  Round 
and  within  the  low  narrow  gates  which  gave  access  to 
these  mansions,  we  should  see  armed  men  lounging 
whose  duty  it  is  to  guard  the  premises  against  robbers 

tion  be  offered  us,  as  in  the  text,  which  gives  a  Hteral  rendering 
to  every  phrase  instead  of  a  figurative  one,  which  bases  itself  on 
the  common  household  facts  of  Eastern  experience  instead  of  on 
the  technicalities  of  Western  science,  which  instead  of  being  so 
indeterminate  and  fanciful  as  at  times  to  be  self-contradictory 
and  grotesque,  is  coherent  and  impressive,  we  really  have  no 
alternative  before  us.  We  cannot  but  choose  the  one  and  reject 
the  other. 


FOURTH  SECTION.  267 

and  intruders ;  these  are  "  the  keepers  of  the  house," 
over  whom,  as  over  the  whole  household,  are  placed 
superior  officials — members  of  the  family  often — or 
"  men  of  power."  Going  through  the  gates  and  glanc- 
ing up  at  the  latticed  windows,  we  might  catch  glimpses 
of  the  veiled  faces  of  the  ladies  of  the  house  who,  not 
being  permitted  to  stir  abroad  except  on  rare  occasions 
and  under  jealous  guardianship,  are  accustomed  to 
amuse  their  dreary  leisure,  and  to  learn  a  little  of 
what  is  going  on  around  them,  by  "  looking  out  of  the 
windows."  Within  the  house,  the  gentlemen  of  the 
family  would  be  enjoying  the  chief  meal  of  the  day, 
provoking  appetite  with  delicacies  such  as  "  the 
locust,"^    or   condiments   such  as   ''the    caper-berry,"^ 

1  This  locust  {chdgdb)  is  one  of  the  four  kinds  which  the  Law 
of  Moses  marked  out  as  fit  for  human  food.  To  this  day  several 
kinds  of  locust  are  held  to  be  an  agreeable  and  nutritious  diet. 
There  are  many  ways  of  preparing  them  for  the  table.  They 
may  be  pounded  with  flour  and  water,  and  made  into  cakes. 
They  may  be  smoked,  boiled,  roasted,  stewed,  and  fried  in  butter. 
They  may  be  salted  with  salt ;  and  thus  treated  are  eaten  by  the 
Arabs  as  a  great  delicacy.  Or  they  may  be  dried  in  tlie  sun,  and 
then  steeped  in  wine  :  baskets  of  them,  prepared  in  this  way,  are 
to  be  commonly  seen  in  Eastern  markets.  Dr.  Kitto,  who  often 
ate  them,  says  that  they  taste  like  shrimps  ;  Dr.  Shaw  says  that 
they  are  quite  as  good  as  our  freshwater  crayfish. 

^  The  caper-plant  grows  abundantly  in  Asia,  as  it  does  also 
in  Africa  and  Southern  Europe.  It  commonly  springs  in  the 
devices  of  walls,  on  heaps  of  ruins,  or  on  barren  wastes,  and 

'ns  a  diffuse  many-branched  shrub.     Its  flowers  are  large  and 


268  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

or  with  choice  fruit  such  as  "the  almond."^  Above 
all  the  shrill  cries  and  noises  of  the  city  you  would 
hear  a  loud  humming  sound  rising  on  every  side,  for 
which  you  would  be  sorely  puzzled  to  account  if  you 
were  a  stranger  to  Eastern  habits.  It  is  the  sound 
of  the  cornmills  which,  towards  evening,  are  at  work 
in  every  house.  A  cornmill  was  indispensable  to  every 
Eastern  family,  since  there  were  no  public  mills  or 
bakers  except  the  King's.  The  heat  of  the  climate 
makes  it  necessary  that  corn  should  be  ground  and 
bread  baked  every  day.  And  as  the  task  of  grinding 
at  the  mill  was  very  irksome,  only  the  most  menial 
class  of  women,  often  slaves  or  captives,  were  employed 
upon  it.     Of  course  the  noise  caused  by  the  revolution 

showy  :  the  four  petals  are  white,  but  the  long  numerous  stamens 
have  their  filaments  tinged  with  purple,  and  terminate  in  yellow 
anthers.  As  the  ovary  ripens  it  droops  and  forms  a  pear-shaped 
berry,  which  holds  in  its  pulp  many  small  seeds.  Almost  every 
part  of  the  shrub  has  been  used  as  a  condiment  by  tlie  ancients. 
The  stalk  and  seed  were  salted,  or  preserved  in  vinegar  or  wine. 
Its  buds  are  still  held  to  be  an  agreeable  sauce — we  eat  them 
with  boiled  mutton.  And  the  berries  possess  irritant  properties 
which  win  them  high  esteem  among  the  Orientals  as  a  provocative 
to  appetite. 

^  The  fruit  of  the  almond-tree  is  still  reckoned  one  of  the 
most  delicate  and  delicious  fruits  in  the  East.  We  may  fancy 
that  we  are  acquainted  with  it,  that  we  know  "  almonds  "  at  least 
as  well  as  we  know  "raisins."  But,  I  believe,  that  the  almond 
we  eat  is  only  the  kernel  of  the  stone  in  the  true  almond ;  the 
fruit  itself  is  of  the  same  order  with  apricots,  peaches,  plums. 


FOURTH  SECTION.  269 


of  the  upper  upon  the  nether  millstone  was  very  great 
when  the  mills  were  simultaneously  at  work  in  every 
house  in  the  city.  No  sound  is  more  familiar  in  the 
East ;  and,  if  it  were  suddenly  stopped,  the  effect  would 
be  as  striking  as  the  sudden  stoppage  of  all  the  wheels 
of  traffic  in  an  English  town.  So  familiar  was  the 
sound,  indeed,  and  of  such  good  omen,  that  in  Holy 
Writ  it  is  used  as  a  symbol  of  a  happy,  active,  well- 
provided  people  ;  while  the  cessation  of  it  is  employed 
to  denote  want,  and  desolation,  and  despair.  To  an 
Oriental  ear  no  threat  would  be  more  doleful  and 
pathetic  than  that  in  Jeremiah  (xxv.  10),  "I  will  take 
from  them  the  voice  of  mirth  and  the  voice  of  glad- 
ness, the  voice  of  the  bridegroom  and  the  voice  of  the 
bride,  tJic  sound  of  the  millstones,  and  the  light  of  the 
candle." 

Now  suppose  the  day  on  which  we  rambled  through 
the  city  had  been  boisterous  and  lowering  ;  that  heavy 
rain  had  fallen,  obscuring  all  the  lights  of  heaven  ;  and 
that,  as  the  evening  drew  on,  the  thick  clouds,  instead 
of  dispersing,  had  "  returned  after  the  rain,"  so  that 
setting  sun  and  rising  moon,  and  the  growing  light  of 
stars,  were  all  blotted  from  view  (ver.  2).  The  tempest, 
long  in  gathering,  breaks  on  the  city  ;  the  lightnings 
flash  through  the  darkness,  making  it  more  hideous  ; 
the  thunder  crashes  and  rolls  above  the  roofs ;  the 
tearing  rain  beats  at  all   lattices  and  floods  all  roads. 


270  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

If  we  cared  to  abide  the  pelting  of  the  storm,  we  should 
have  before  us  the  very  scene  which  the  Preacher 
depicts.  "  The  keepers  of  the  house,"  the  guards  and 
porters,  would  quake.  "  The  men  of  power,"  the  lords 
or  owners  of  the  house,  or  the  officials  who  most  closely 
attended  on  them,  would  crouch  and  tremble  with 
apprehension.  The  maids  at  the  mill  would  "  stop " 
because  one  or  other  of  the  two  women — two  at  least 
— whom  it  took  to  work  the  heavy  millstone  had  been 
frightened  from  her  task  by  the  gleaming  lightning  and 
the  pealing  thunder.  The  ladies,  looking  out  of  their 
lattices,  would  be  driven  back  into  the  darkest  corners 
of  the  inner  rooms  of  the  harem.  Every  door  would  be 
closed  and  barred  lest  robbers,  availing  themselves  of 
the  darkness  and  its  terrors,  should  creep  in  (ver.  3). 
"  The  noise  of  the  mills  "  would  grow  faint  or  utterly 
cease,  because  the  threatening  tumult  had  terrified 
many,  if  not  all,  the  grinding-maids  from  their  work. 
The  strong-winged  "  swallow,"  lover  of  wind  and 
tempest,  would  flit  to  and  fro  with  shrieks  of  joy'; 
while  the  delicate  "  song-birds"  would  drop,  silent  and 
alarmed,  into  their  nests.  The  gentlemen  of  the  house 
would  soon  lose  all  gust  for  their  delicate  cates^  and 
fruits ;    "  the  almond "   would    be    pushed   aside,    "  the 

'  Sir  Henry  Rawlinson  says  :  "At  the  present  day,  among  the 
bons  vivatits  of  Persia,  it  is  usual  to  sit  down  for  hours  before 
dinner,  drinking  wine,  and  eating  dried  fruits,  such  as  filberts, 


FOURTH  SECTION.  271 

locust  loathed,"  and  even  the  stimulating  "  caper-berry 
provoke  no  appetite,"  fear  being  a  singularly  unwel- 
come and  disappetising  guest  at  a  feast.  In  short,  the 
whole  people,  stunned  and  confused  by  the  awful  and 
stupendous  majesty  of  a  tropical  storm,  would  be 
affrighted  at  the  terrors  which  come  flaming  from 
"  the  hefght "  of  heaven,  to  confront  them  on  every 
highway  (vv.  4,  5). 

Such  and  so  terrible  is  the  tempest  that  at  times 
sweeps  over  an  Eastern  city.^  Such  and  so  terrible, 
adds  the  Preacher,  is  death  to  the  godless  and  sensual. 
They  are  carried  away  as  by  a  storm ;  the  wind  riseth 
and  snatcheth  them  out  of  their  place.  For  if  we  ask, 
"  Why,  O  Preacher,  has  your  pencil  laboured  to  depict 
the  terrors  of  a  tempest  ?  "  he  replies,  "  Because  man 
goeth  to  his  long  home,  and  the  mourners  pace  up  and 
down  the  street"  (ver.  5).  He  leaves  us  in  no  doubt 
as  to  the  moral  of  the  fable,  the  theme  and  motive  of 

almonds,  pistachio-nuts,  melon-seeds,  etc.  A  party,  indeed,  often 
sits  down  at  seven  o'clock,  and  the  dinner  is  not  brought  in  till 
eleven.  The  dessert  dishes,  intermingled  as  they  are  with  highly 
seasoned  delicacies,  are  supposed  to  have  the  effect  of  stimulating 
the  appetite." — Notes  to  Rawlinson's  Herodotus,  vol.  i.,  p.  274. 

^  It  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  comparative  rarity  of 
thunderstorms  in  Syria  and  the  adjacent  lands  makes  them  much 
more  dreadful  to  the  inhabitants  of  those  countries.  Throughout 
the  Old  Testament,  and  especially  in  the  Psalms,  we  find  many 
traces  of  the  dread  which  such  storms  inspired— a  dread  almost 
unaccountable  to  our  accustomed  nerves. 


272  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

his  picture.  While  painting  it,  while  adding  touch  to 
touch,  he  has  been  thinking  of  "  the  long  home  " — or, 
as  the  Hebrew  has  it,  "  the  house  of  eternity ; "  a 
phrase  still  used  by  the  Jews  as  a  synonym  for  "  the 
grave  " — which  is  appointed  for  all  living,  and  of  the 
mercenary  professional  mourners  who  loiter  under  the 
windows  of  the  dying  man  in  the  hope  that  they  may 
be  hired  to  lament  him.  To  the  expiring  sinner  death 
is  simply  dreadful.  It  puts  an  end  to  all  his  activities 
and  enjoyments,  just  as  the  tempest  brings  all  the 
labours  and  recreations  of  the  city  to  a  pause.  He  has 
nothing  before  him  but  the  grave,  and  none  to  mourn 
him  but  the  harpies  who  already  pace  the  street,  longing 
for  the  moment  when  he  will  be  gone,  and  who  value 
their  fee  far  above  his  life.  If  we  would  have  death 
shorn  of  its  terrors  for  us,  we  must  "remember  our 
Creator  "  before  death  comes ;  we  must  seek  by  charity, 
by  a  faithful  discharge  of  duty,  by  a  wise  use  and  a 
wise  enjoyment  of  the  life  that  now  is,  to  prepare  our- 
selves for  the  life  which  is  to  come. 

Death  itself,  as  Coheleth  proceeds  to  remind  us 
(ver.  6),  cannot  be  escaped.  Some  day  the  cord  will 
break  and  the  lamp  fall ;  some  day  the  jar  or  pitcher 
must  be  broken,  and  the  wheel,  shattered,  fall  into  the 
well.  Death  is  the  common  event.  It  befalls  not  only 
the  sinful  and  injurious,  but  also  the  useful  and  the 
good.     Our  life  may  have  been  like  a  "  golden  "  lamp 


FOURTH  SECTION.  273 

suspended  by  a  silver  chain,  fit  for  the  palace  of  a  king, 
and  may  have  shed  a  welcome  and  cheerful  light  on 
every  side  and  held  out  every  promise  of  endurance 
but,  none  the  less,  the  costly  durable  chain  will  be 
snapped  at  last,  and  the  fair  costly  bowl  be  broken.  Or 
our  life  may  have  been  like  the  "  pitcher  "  dipped,  by 
village  maidens,  into  the  village  fountain ;  or,  again, 
like  "  the  wheel "  by  which  water  is  drawn,  by  a 
thousand  hands,  from  the  city  well ;  it, may  have  con- 
veyed a  vital  refreshment  to  the  few  or  to  the  many 
around  us  :  but,  none  the  less,  the  day  must  come  when 
the  pitcher  will  be  shattered  on  the  edge  of  the  fountain, 
and  the  time-worn  wheel  fall  from  its  rotten  supports. 
There  is  no  escape  from  death.  And,  therefore,  as  we 
must  all  die,  let  us  all  live  as  cheerfully  and  helpfully 
as  we  can  ;  let  us  all  prepare  for  the  better  life  beyond 
the  grave,  by  serving  our  Creator  before  "  the  body  is 
cast  into  the  earth  from  which  it  came,  and  the  spirit 
returns  to  God  who  gave  it "  (ver.  7). 

This,  then,  according  to  the  Hebrew  Preacher,  is 
the  ideal  man,  the  man  who  achieves  the  Quest  of  the 
Chief  Good : — Charitable,  dutiful,  cheerful,  he  pre- 
pares for  death  by  a  useful  and  happy  life,  for  future 
judgment  by  a  constant  reference  to  the  present 
judgment,  for  meeting  God  hereafter  by  walking  with 
Him  here. 

18 


274  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

Has  he  not  achieved  the  Quest  ?     Can  we  hope  to 
find  a  more  solid  and  enduring  Good  ?     What  to  him 
are  the  shocks  of  Change,  the  blows  of  Circumstance, 
the  mutations  of  Time,  the  fluctuations  of   Fortune  ? 
These   cannot  touch   the   Good  which  he   holds  to  be 
Chief.      If   they    bring    trouble,    he    can    bear    trouble 
and    profit    by  it  :    if  they   bring  prosperity,   success, 
mirth,  he  can  bear  even  these,  and  neither  value  them 
beyond  their  worth  nor  abuse  them  to  his   hurt ;    for 
his  Good,  and  therefore  his  peace  and  blessedness,  are 
founded  on  a  Rock  over  which   the   changeful  waves 
may  wash,  but  against  which  they  cannot  prevail.     Let 
the  sun  shine  never  so  hotly,  let  the  storm  beat  never 
so  furiously,  the  Rock  stands  firm,  and  the  house  which 
he  has  built  for  himself  upon    the    Rock.     Whatever 
may  befall,  he  can  be  doing  his  main  work,  enjoying 
his  supreme  satisfaction,  since  he  can  meet  all  changes 
with  a  dutiful  and  loving  heart ;  since,  through  all,  he 
may  be   forming  a   noble    character    and    helping    his 
neighbours  to  form  a  character  as  noble  as  his  own. 
Because  he  has  a  gracious  God  always  with  him,  and 
because  a  bright  future  stretches  before  him  in  endless 
and  widening  vistas  of   hope,  he  can  carry  to  all  the 
wrongs  and  afflictions  of  time  a  cheerful  spirit  which 
shines  through  them  with  transfiguring  rays, — a  spirit 
before  which  even  the  thick  darkness  of  death  will  grow 
light,  and  the  solemnities  of  the  Judgment   be  turned 


FOURTH  SECTION.  275 

into  holiday  festivity  and  a  triumph.  Ah,  foolish  and 
miserable  that  we  are  who,  with  so  noble  a  life, 
and  so  bright  a  prospect,  and  a  Good  so  enduring 
open  to  us — and  with  such  helps  to  them  in  the  Gospel 
of  Christ  as  Coheleth  could  not  know — nevertheless 
creep  about  the  earth  the  slaves  of  every  accident,  the 
very  fools  of  Time ! 


THE    EPILOGUE. 

IN  WHICH  THE  PROBLEM  OF  THE  BOOK  IS 
CONCLUSIVELY  SOLVED. 

Chap.  XII.,  Vers.  8-14. 

"  OTUDENTS/'  says  the  Talmud,  "are  of  four  kinds; 
*^~-^  they  are  hke  a  sponge,  a  funnel,  a  strainer,  and 
a  sieve :  like  a  sponge  that  sucketh  all  up  ;  like  a 
funnel  which  receiveth  at  one  end  and  dischargeth  at 
the  other ;  like  a  strainer  which  letteth  the  wine  pass 
but  retaineth  the  lees  ;  and  like  a  sieve  which  dis- 
chargeth the  bran  but  retaineth  the  corn."  Coheleth 
is  like  the  sieve.  He  is  the  good  student  who  has 
sifted  all  the  schemes  and  ways  and  aims  of  men, 
separating  the  wheat  from  the  bran,  teaching  us  to 
know  the  bran  as  bran,  the  wheat  as  wheat.  It  is  a 
true  "corn  of  heaven"  which  he  offers  us,  and  not 
any  of  the  husks  to  obtain  which  reckless  and  prodigal 
man  has  often  wasted  his  whole  living — husks  which, 
though  they  have  the  form  and  hue  of  wheat,  have 
not  its  nutriment,  and  cannot  therefore  satisfy  the 
keen  hunger  of  the  soul. 


THE  EPILOGUE.  277 


We  have  now  followed  the  sifting  process  to  its 
close  ;  much  bran  lies  about  our  feet,  but  a  little  corn 
is  in  our  hands,  and  from  this  little  there  may  grow 
"  a  harvest  unto  life."  Starting  in  quest  of  that  Chief 
Good  in  which,  when  once  it  is  attained,  we  can  rest 
with  an  _,unbroken  and  measureless  content,  we  have 
learned  that  it  is  not  to  be  found  in  Wisdom,  in 
Pleasure,  in  Devotion  to  Business  or  Public  Affairs,  in 
a  modest  Competence  or  in  boundless  Wealth.  We 
have  learned  that  only  he  achieves  this  supreme  Quest 
who  is  "  charitable,  dutiful,  cheerful ;  "  only  he  who  "  by 
a  wise  use  and  a  wise  enjoyment  of  the  present  life 
prepares  himself  for  the  life  which  is  to  come."  We 
have  learned  that  the  best  incentive  to  this  life  of  virtue, 
and  its  best  safeguards,  are  a  constant  remembrance 
of  our  Creator  and  of  his  perpetual  presence  with  us, 
and  a  constant  hope  of  that  future  judgment  in  which 
all  the  wrongs  of  time  are  to  be  redressed.  And  here 
we  might  think  our  task  was  ended.  We  might  sup- 
pose that  the  Preacher  would  dismiss  us  from  the 
School  in  which  he  has  so  long  held  us  by  his  sage 
maxims,  his  vivid  illustrations,  his  gracious  warnings 
and  encouragements.  But  even  yet  he  will  not  suffer 
us  to  depart.  He  has  still  "  words  to  utter  for  God," 
words  which  it  will  be  well  for  us  to  ponder.  As  in 
the  Prologue  he  had  stated  the  problem  he  was  about 
to  take  in   hand,   so  now  he  subjoins  an   Epilogue  in 


^78  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

which  he  re-states  the  sohition  of  it  at  which  he  has 
arrived.  His  last  words  are,  as  we  should  expect 
them  to  be,  heavily  weighted  with  thought.  So  closely 
packed  are  his  thoughts  and  allusions,  indeed,  as  to 
give  a  disconnected  and  illogical  tone  to  his  words. 
Every  saying  seems  to  stand  alone,  complete  in  itself; 
and  hence  our  main  difficulty  in  dealing  with  this 
Epilogue  is  to  trace  the  links  of  sequence  which  bind 
saying  to  saying  and  thought  to  thought,  and  so  to 
get  "  the  best  part "  of  his  work.  Every  verse  supplies 
a  text  for  patient  meditation,  or  a  theme  which  needs 
to  be  illustrated  by  historic  facts  that  lie  beyond  the 
general  reach  ;  and  the  danger  is  lest,  while  dwelling 
on  these  separate  themes  and  texts,  we  should  fail  to 
collect  their  connected  meaning,  and  to  grasp  the  large 
conclusion  to  which  they  all  conduct,^ 

Coheleth  commences  (ver.  8)  by  once  more  striking 
the  keynote  to  which  all  his  work  is  set :  "  Vanity  of 
vanities,  saith  the  Preacher,  all  is  vanity  !  "  We  are 
not,  however,  to  take  these  words  as  announcing  his 
deliberate  verdict  on  the  sum  of  human  endeavours  and 
affairs ;  for  he  has  now  discovered  the  true  abiding 
Good  which  underlies  all  the  vanities  of  earth  and 
time.     His  repetition  of  this  familiar  phrase  is  simply 

^  As  the  main  ethical,  hterary,  and  historical  interest  of  the 
whole  Book  is  gathered  up  into  this  brief  Epilogue,  Ij  offer  [no 
apology  for  the  comparative  length  of  my  treatment  of  it. 


THE  EPILOGUE.  279 


a  touch  of  art  by  which  the  Poet  reminds  us  of  what 
the  main  theme  of  his  Poem  has  been,  of  the  pain  and 
weariness  and  disappointment  which  have  attended  his 
long  Quest.  As  it  falls  once  more,  and  for  the  last 
time,  on  our  ear,  we  cannot  but  remember  how  often, 
and  in  what  connections,  we  have  heard  it  before. 
Memory  and  imagination  are  set  to  work.  The  whole 
course  of  the  sacred  drama  passes  swiftly  before  us, 
with  its  mournful  pauses  of  defeated  hope,  as  we  listen 
to  this  echo  of  the  despair  with  which  the  bafQed 
Preacher  has  so  often  returned  from  seeking  the  true 
Good  in  this  or  that  province  of  human  life  in  which 
it  was  not  to  be  found. 

Having  thus  reminded  us  of  the  several  stages  of 
his  Quest,  and  of  the  verdict  which  he  had  been  com- 
pelled to  pronounce  at  the  close  of  each  but  the  last, 
Coheleth  proceeds  (ver.  9)  to  set  forth  his  qualifications 
for  undertaking  this  sore  task  :  "  Not  only  was  the 
Preacher  a  wise  man,  he  also  taught  the  people  wisdom, 
and  composed,  collected,  and  arranged  many  proverbs  " 
or  parables,  the  proverb  being  a  condensed  parable  and 
the  parable  an  expanded  proverb.  His  claims  are  that 
he  is  a  sage,  and  a  public  teacher,  who  has  both  made 
many  proverbs  of  his  own,  collected  the  wise  sayings  of 
other  sages,  and  has  so  arranged  them  as  to  convey 
a  connected  and  definite  teaching  to  his  disciples ;  and 
his  motive  in  setting  forth  these  claims  is,  no  doubt. 


28o  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

that  he  may  the  more  deeply  impress  upon  us  the 
conckision  to  which  he  has  come,  and  which  it  has 
cost  him  so  much  to  reach. 

Now  during  the  Captivity  there  was  a  singular  out- 
break of  literary  activity  in  the  Hebrew  race.  Even 
yet  this  crisis  in  their  history  is  little  studied  and 
understood ;  but  we  shall  only  follow  the  Preacher's 
meaning  through  vv.  9-12  as  we  read  them  in  the  light 
of  this  striking  event.  That  a  change  of  the  most 
radical  and  extraordinary  kind  passed  upon  the  Hebrews 
of  this  period,  that  they  were  by  some  means  drawn 
to  a  study  of  their  Sacred  Writings  much  more 
thorough  and  intense  than  any  which  went  before  it, 
we  know  ;  but  of  the  causes  of  this  change  we  are  not 
so  well  informed.^  A  great,  and  perhaps  the  greatest, 
authority^  on  this   subject  writes  :  "  One  of  the  most 

'  In  the  Introduclion,  however,  I  have  tried  to  give  what  2S 
known  of  the  history  of  this  period.  Roughly  speaking,  I  behave 
the  Jews  owed  their  literary  advance  mainly  to  contact  with  the 
inquisitive  and  learned  Babylonians,  and  their  religious  advance 
mainly  to  the  sorrows  of  the  Captivity  and  their  contact  with  the 
pure  faith  of  the  primitive  Persians. 

^  Emmanuel  Deutsch,  whose  premature  death  is  still  lamented 
by  many  as  an  irreparable  loss.  The  passage  will  be  found  in 
his  celebrated  article  on  The  Talimid  in  The  Quarterly  of 
October  1867.  "The  Quest  of  the  Chief  Good  "  was  published 
at  the  close  of  that  year.  And  at  this  point  in  it,  while  Deutsch 
was  still  alive,  but  before  I  knew  him  personally,  I  gently  com- 
plained of  the  loss  he  had  unwittingly  inflicted  on  me.     I  had 


THE  EPILOGUE.  281 


mysterious  and  momentous  periods  in  the  history  of 
humanity  is  that  brief  space  of  the  Exile.  What  were 
the  influences  brought  to  bear  on  the  captives  during 
that  time,  we  know  not.  But  this  we  know,  that  from 
a  reckless,  lawless,  godless  populace,  they  returned 
transforjned  into  a  band  of  Puritans.  The  religion  of 
Zerdusht  (Zoroaster),  though  it  has  left  its  traces  in 
Judaism,  fails  to  account  for  that  change.  .  .  .  Yet 
the  change  is  there,  palpable,  unmistakable — a  change 
which  we  may  regard  as  almost  miraculous.  Scarcely 
aware  before  of  their  glorious  national  literature,  the 
people  now  began  to  press  round  these  brands  plucked 
from   the  fire — the   scanty  records   of  their   faith   and 

for  ten  years  been  collecting  the  gnomic  sayings  of  the  Talmud 
from  any  quarter  open  to  one  to  whom  the  Talmud  itself  was  a 
sealed  book,  and  had  indeed  printed  some  two  score  of  them  in 
the  Christian  Spectator  ior  1866.  And  here  came  one  who  "out 
of  his  profuse  wealth  carelessly  flung  down  most  of  my  special 
treasures."  Only  half-a-dozen  of  the  sayings  I  had  collected 
now  had  any  stamp  of  novelty  on  them  to  the  thousands  who 
had  revelled  in  the  wit  and  learning  of  that  famous  article  in 
The  Quarterly.  And  of  these  I  ventured  to  call  special  attention 
to  four  which  seemed  to  me  of  special  value  and  beauty ;  viz., 
those  on  the  four  kinds  of  students,  on  new  and  old  flasks,  on 
not  serving  God  for  the  sake  of  reward,  and  on  doing  God's  will 
as  if  it  were  our  will :  they  will  all  be  found  in  this  Section. 
But  if  I  lost  something,  I  also  gained  much  by  the  appearance 
of  that  article,  as  those  who  read  what  follows  will  discover, 
although  it  only  came  into  my  hands  as  I  was  correcting  the 
proofs  of  the  final  pages  in  my  Book. 


282  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

history — with  a  fierce  and  passionate  love,  a  love 
stronger  even  than  that  of  wife  and  child.  These 
same  documents,  as  they  were  gradually  formed  into 
a  canon,  became  the  immediate  centre  of  their  lives, 
their  actions,  their  thoughts,  their  very  dreams.  From 
that  time  forth,  with  scarcely  any  intermission,  the 
keenest  as  well  as  the  most  poetical  minds  of  the 
nation  remained  fixed  upon  them."  V 

The  more  we  think  of  this  change,  the  more  the 
wonder  grows.  Good  kings  and  inspired  prophets  had 
desired  to  see  the  nation  devoted  to  the  Word  of  the 
Lord,  had  spent  their  lives  in  vain  endeavours  to  recall 
the  thought  and  affection  of  their  race  to  the  Sacred 
Records  in  which  the  will  of  God  was  revealed.  But 
what  they  failed  to  do  was  done  when  the  inspiration 
of  the  Almighty  was  withdrawn  and  the  voice  of 
Prophecy  had  grown  mute.  In'  their  Captivity,  under 
the  strange  wrongs  and  miseries  of  their  exile,  the 
Jews  remembered  God  their  Maker,  Giver  of  songs  in 
the  night.  They  betook  themselves  to  the  study  of  the 
Sacred  Oracles.  They  began  to  acquaint  themselves 
with  all  wisdom  that  they  might  define  and  illustrate 
whatever  was  obscure  in  the  Scriptures  of  their  fathers. 
They  commenced  that  elaborate  systematic  commen- 
tary of  which  man}^  noble  fragments  are  still  extant. 
They  drew  new  truths  from  the  old  letter,  or  from  the 
collocation  of  scattered  passages, — -as,  for  instance,  the 


THE  EPILOGUE.  281 


truths  of  the  immortahty  of  the  soul  and  of  the  resur- 
rection of  the  body.  They  laid  the  hidden  foundations 
of  the  Synagogues  and  Schools  which  afterwards 
covered  the  land.  Ezra  and  Nehemiah,  who,  by  grace 
of  the  Persian  conquerors,  led  them  back  from  Babylonia 
to  Jerusalem,  are  still  claimed  as  the  founders  of  the 
Great  Synagogue,  i.e.  as  the  leaders  of  that  great  race 
of  jurists,  sages,  authors,  whose  utterances  are  still  a 
law  in  Israel,  and  of  whom  the  lawyers  and  the  scribes 
of  the  New  Testament  were  the  modern  successors. 
Before  the  Captivity  there  was  not  a  term  for  "  school  " 
in  their  language ;  there  were  at  least  a  dozen  in 
common  use  within  two  or  three  centuries  after  the 
accession  of  Cyrus.  Education  had  become  compulsory. 
Its  immense  value  in  the  popular  estimation  is  marked 
in  innumerable  sayings  such  as  these  :  "  Jerusalem 
was  destroyed  because  the  education  of  the  young  was 
neglected ; "  "  Even  for  the  rebuilding  of  the  Temple 
the  schools  must  not  be  interrupted ;  "  "  Study  is  more 
meritorious  than  sacrifice  ;  "  "A  scholar  is  greater  than 
a  prophet ; "  "  You  should  revere  the  teacher  even 
more  than  your  father;  the  latter  only  brought  you 
into  this  world,  the  former  shews  you  the  way  into  the 
next."  To  meet  the  national  craving  indicated  in  these 
and  similar  proverbs,  innumerable  copies  of  the  Sacred 
Books,  of  commentaries,  traditions,  and  the  gnomic 
utterances  of  the  Wise,  were  written   and  circulated; 


284  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

of  which,  in  the  Canon,  in  some  of  the  Apocryphal 
Scriptures,  in  the  works  of  Philo,  and  in  the  legal  and 
legendary  sections  of  the  Talmud,  many  specimens 
have  come  down  to  us.  In  fine,  whatever  was  the 
cause  of  this  marvellous  outburst,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  whole  Rabbinical  period  was  charac- 
terised by  devotion  to  learning,  a  mental  and  literary 
activity,  much  more  general  and  vital  than  it  is  easy 
for  us  to  conceive. 

In  such  an  age  the  words  of  a  professed  and  acknow- 
ledged Sage  would  carry  great  weight.  If,  besides 
being  "a  wise  man,"  he  was  a  recognised  "teacher,"  a 
man  whose  wisdom  was  stamped  by  public  and  official 
approval,  whatever  fell  from  his  lips  would  command 
public  attention  :  for  these  teachers,  or  rabbis,  were  the 
real  rulers  of  the  time,  and  not  the  pharisees  or  the 
priests,  or  even  the  poHticians.  They  might  be,  they 
often  were,  "  tent-makers,  sandal-makers,  weavers,  car- 
penters, tanners,  bakers,  cooks  " ;  for  it  is  among  their 
highest  claims  to  our  respect  that  these  learned  rabbis 
reverenced  labour,  however  menial  or  toilsome,  that 
they  held  mere  scholarship  and  piety  of  little  worth 
unless  conjoined  with  regular  and  healthy  physical 
exertion.  But,  however  toilsome  their  lives  or  humble 
their  circumstances,  these  wise  men  were  "  masters  of 
the  law."  It  was  their  special  function  to  interpret  the 
Law  of  Moses — which,  remember,  was  the  law  of  the 


THE  EPILOGUE.  2S5 


land — to  explain  its  bearing  on  this  case  or  that,  if  not, 
as  many  modern  critics  maintain,  to  add  to  its  precepts 
and  codes  ;  and,  as  members  of  the  local  courts  or 
the  metropolitan  Sanhedrin,  to  administer  the  law  they 
expounded.  An  immense  power,  therefore,  was  in 
their  hands.  To  obey  the  Law  was  to  be  at  once 
loyal  and  religious,  happy  here  and  hereafter.  Hence 
the  rabbis,  whose  business  it  was  to  apply  the  law  to  all 
the  details  of  life,  and  whose  decisions  were  authori- 
tative and  final,  could  not  fail  to  command  universal 
deference  and  respect.  They  were  lawyers,  judges, 
schoolmasters,  heads  of  colleges,  public  orators  and 
lecturers,  statesmen  and  preachers,  all  in  one  or 
all  in  turn,  and  therefore  concentrated  in  themselves 
the  esteem  which  we  distribute  on  many  offices  and 
many  men. 

Such  a  rabbi  was  Coheleth.  He  was  of  "  the 
Wise  "  ;  he  was  a  "  master  of  the  law."  And,  in  addition 
to  these  claims,  he  was  also  a  teacher  and  an  author 
who,  besides  "  composing,"  had  "  collected  and  arranged 
many  proverbs."  Than  this  latter  he  could  hardly 
have  any  higher  claim  to  the  regard,  and  even  to  the 
affection,  of  the  Hebrew  public.  The  passionate  fond- 
ness of  Oriental  races  for  proverbs,  fables,  stories 
of  any  kind,  is  well  known.  And  the  Jews  for  whom 
Coheleth  wrote  took,  as  was  natural  at  such  a  time,  an 
extraordinary  delight,  extraordinary  even  for  the  East, 


286  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

in  listening  to  and  repeating  the  wise  or  witty  sayings, 
the  parables  and  poems,  of  their  national  authors. 
Some  of  these  are  still  in  our  hands  :  as  we  read  them, 
we  cease  to  wonder  at  the  intense  enjoyment  with 
which  they  were  welcomed  by  a  generation  not  cloyed, 
as  we  are,  with  books.  They  are  not  only  charming 
as  works  of  art :  they  have  also  this  charm,  that  they 
convey  lofty  ethical  instruction.  Take  a  few  of  these 
pictorial  proverbs,  not  included  in  the  Canonical  Scrip- 
tures. "  The  house  that  does  not  open  to  the  poor  will 
open  to  the  physician."  "  Commit  a  sin  twice,  and  you 
will  begin  to  think  it  quite  allowable."  "  The  reward 
of  good  works  is  like  dates — sweet,  but  ripening  late." 
"Even  when  the  gates  of  pra3^er  are  shut  in  heaven, 
the  gate  of  tears  is  open."  "  When  the  righteous  dies, 
it  is  the  earth  that  loses  ;  the  lost  jewel  is  still  a  jewel, 
but  he  who  has  lost  it — well  may  he  weep."  "  Who  is 
wise  ?  He  who  is  wiUing  to  learn  from  all  men.  Who 
is  strong  ?  He  who  subdues  his  passions.  Who  is 
rich  ?  He  that  is  satisfied  with  his  lot."  These  are 
surely  happy  expressions  of  profound  moral  truths.  But 
the  rabbis  are  capable  of  putting  a  keener  edge  on  their 
words  ;  they  can  utter  witty  epigrams  as  incisive  as 
those  of  any  of  our  modern  satirists,  and  yet  use  their 
wit  in  the  service  of  good  sense  and  morality.  It  would 
not  be  easy  to  match,  it  would  be  very  hard  to  beat, 
such  sayings  as  these  : — "  The  sun  will  go  down  with- 


THE  EPILOGUE.  287 


OMt your  help."     "When  the  ox  is  down,  many  are  the 
butchers."      "  The    soldiers    fight,    and   kings    are    the 
heroes,"     "  The   camel  wanted   horns,  and  they  took 
away  his  ears."     "  The  cock  and  the  owl  both  wait  for 
morning  :  the  light  brings  joy  to  me,  says  the  cock,  but 
what  are  you  waiting  for  ?  "     "  When  the  pitcher  falls 
on  the  stone,  woe  to  the  pitcher ;  when  the  stone  falls 
on  the  pitcher,  woe  to  the  pitcher  :  whatever  happens, 
woe  to  the  pitcher."     "Look  not  at  the  flask,  but  at 
that  which  is  in  it  :  for  there  are  new  flasks  full  of  old 
wine,  and  old  flasks  which  have  not  even  new  wine  in 
them  :  "  ah,  of  how  many  of  those  "  old  flasks  "  have 
some  of  us  had  to  drink,  or  seem  to  drink  !     When  the 
rabbis  draw  out   their  moral  at  greater  length,  when 
they  tell   a    story,  their   skill   does    not  desert  them. 
Here  is  one  of  the  briefest,  which  can  hardly  fail  to 
remind  us  of  more  than  one  of  the  parables  uttered  by 
the  Great  Teacher  Himself.     "  There  was  once  a  king 
who  bade  all  his  servants  to  a  great  repast,  but  did  not 
name  the  hour.     Some  went  home,  and  put  on  their 
best  garments,  and  came  and  stood  at  the  door  of  the 
palace.     Others  said,  'There  is  time  enough,  the  king 
will  let  us  know  beforehand.'     But  the  king  summoned 
them  of  a  sudden  ;  and  those  that  came  in  their  best 
garments  were  well  received,  but  the  foolish  ones,  who 
came  in  their  slovenliness,  were  turned  away  in  disgrace. 
Repent  ye  to-day,  lest  ye  be  summoned  to-morrow T 


288  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  Jews,  even  in  the  sorrows 
of  their  Captivity,  Hked  to  hear  such  proverbs  and 
parables  as  these  ?  that  they  had  an  immense  and 
grateful  admiration  for  the  men  who  spent  much 
thought  and  care  on  the  composition  and  arrangement 
of  these  wise,  beautiful  sayings  ?  Should  not  we 
ourselves  be  thankful  to  hear  them  when  the  day's 
work  was  done,  or  even  while  it  was  doing  ?  If,  then, 
such  an  one  as  Coheleth — a  sage,  a  rabbi,  a  composer 
and  collector  of  proverbs  and  parables — came  to  them 
and  said,  "  My  children,  I  have  sought  what  you  are  all 
seeking ;  I  have  been  in  quest  of  that  Chief  Good  which 
you  still  pursue  ;  and  I  will  tell  you  the  story  of  the 
Quest  in  the  parables  and  proverbs  which  you  are  so 
fond  of  hearing  :  " — we  can  surely  understand  that  they 
would  be  charmed  to  listen,  that  they  would  hang  upon 
his  words,  that  they  would  be  predisposed  to  accept  his 
conclusions.  As  they  listened,  and  found  that  he  was 
telling  them  their  own  story  no  less  than  his,  that  he  was 
trying  to  lead  them  away  from  the  vanities  which  they 
themselves  felt  to  be  vanities,  toward  an  abiding  Good 
in  which  he  had  found  rest ;  as  they  heard  him  enforce 
the  duties  of  charity,  industry,  hilarity — duties  which 
all  their  rabbis  urged  upon  them,  and  invite  them  to 
that  wise  use  and  wise  enjoyment  of  the  present  life 
which  their  own  consciences  approved  :  above  all,  as 
he  unfolded  before  them  the  bright  hope  of  a  future 


THE  EPILOGUE.  289 


judgment  in  which  all  wrongs  would  be  redressed  and 
all  acts  of  duty  receive  a  great  recompense  of  reward, 
— would    they  not    hail    him    as    the    wisest    of  their 
teachers,   as    the   great   rabbi   who   had    achieved    the 
supreme  Quest  ?     Assuredly  few  books  were,  or  are, 
niore  popular  than  the  book  Ecclesiastes.     Its  presence 
and  influence  may  be  traced  on  every  subsequent  age 
and  department  of  Hebrew  literature ;  it   has  entered 
into  our  English  literature  hardly  less  deeply.      Many 
of  its  verses  are  familiar  to  us  as  household  words,  are 
household  words.     Brief  as  the  Book  is,  I  am  disposed 
to  think  it  is  better  known  among  us  than  any  other  of 
the  Old  Testament  Books  except  Genesis,  the  Psalter, 
and  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah.     Job  is  an  incomparably 
finer,  as  it  is  a  much  longer  poem  ;  but  I  doubt  whether 
most  of  us  could  not  quote  at  least  two  verses  from  the 
shorter  for  every  one   that  we  could  repeat  from  the 
longer    Scripture.     We    can    very    easily    understand, 
therefore,    that    the    Wise    Preacher,    as    he    himself 
assures    us   (ver.    10),    bestowed   on    this  work    much 
care   and  thought ;  that   he  had   made  diligent  search 
for    "  words   of   comfort "   by  which    he  might   solace 
and  strengthen  the  hearts  of  his  oppressed  brethren  ; 
and    that,    having    found    words    of    comfort    and    of 
truth,  he  wrote  them  down  with  a  frank  sincerity  and 
uprightness. 

From    this   description   of  the   motives   which   had 

19 


ago  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

impelled  him  to  publish  the  results  of  his  thought  and 
experience,  and  of  the  spirit  in  which  he  had  composed 
his  work,  Coheleth  passes,  in  ver.  ii,  to  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  twofold  function  of  the  Teacher  which  is 
really  a  marvellous  little  poem  in  itself,  a  pastoral  cut 
on  a  gem.  That  function  is,  on  the  one  hand,  pro- 
gressive, and,  on  the  other  hand,  conservative.  At 
times  the  Teacher's  words  are  like  "  goads  "  with  which 
the  herdsmen  prick  on  their  cattle  to  new  pastures, 
correcting  them  when  they  loiter  or  stray ;  at  other 
times  they  are  like  the  "spikes"  which  the  shepherds 
drive  into  the  ground  when  they  pitch  their  tents  on 
pastures  where  they  intend  to  linger  :  "  The  words  of 
the  Wise  are  like  goads,"  he  says;  and  "the  Wise" 
was  a  technical  term  for  the  sages  who  interpreted  and 
administered  the  law ;  while  "  those  of  the  Masters  of 
the  Assemblies  are  like  spikes  driven  home,"  "  Masters 
of  Assemblies  "  being  a  technical  name  for  the  heads 
of  the  colleges  and  schools  which,  during  the  Rabbinical 
period,  were  to  be  found  in  every  town,  and  almost 
in  every  hamlet,  of  Judea.  The  same  man  might, 
and  commonly  did,  wear  both  titles  ;  and,  probably, 
Coheleth  was  himself  both  a  Wise  Man  and  a  Master. 
So  much  as  this,  indeed,  seems  implied  in  the  very 
name  by  which  he  introduces  himself  in  the  Prologue. 
For  Coheleth  means,  as  we  have  seen,  "one  who  calls 
an  assembly  together  and  addresses  them,"  i.e.  pre- 


THE  EPILOGUE.  291 


cisely  such  a  wise  man  as  was  reckoned  the  "  master 
of  an  assembly  "  among  the  Jews. 

What  did  these  Masters  teach  ?  Everything  almost 
— at  least  everything  then  known.  It  is  true  that 
their  main  function  was  to  interpret  and  enforce  the 
law  of  Moses  ;  but  this  function  demanded  all  science 
for  its  adequate  fulfilment.  Take  a  simple  illustration. 
The  Law  said,  "  Thou  shalt  not  kill."  Here,  if  ever, 
is  a  plain  and  simple  statute,  with  no  ambiguities,  no 
qualifications,  capable  neither  of  misconstruction  nor 
evasion.  Anybody  may  remember  it,  and  know  what 
it  means.  May  they  ?  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  The 
Law  says  I  am  not  to  kill.  What,  not  in  self-defence  ! 
not  to  save  honour  from  outrage  !  not  in  a  patriotic 
war  !  not  to  save  my  homestead  from  the  freebooter 
or  my  house  from  the  midnight  thief!  not  when  my 
kinsman  is  slain  before  my  eyes  and  in  my  defence  ! 
Many  similar  cases  might  be  mooted,  and  were  mooted, 
by  the  Jews.  The  Master  had  to  consider  such  cases 
as  these,  to  study  the  recorded  and  traditional  verdicts 
of  previous  judges,  the  glosses  and  comments  of  other 
Masters ;  he  had  to  lay  down  rules  and  to  apply  rules 
to  particular  and  exceptional  cases,  just  as  our  English 
Judges  have  to  define  the  Common  Law  or  to  inter- 
pret a  Parliamentary  Statute.  The  growing  wants  of 
the  Commonwealth,  the  increasing  complexity  of  the 
relations    of  life    as    the   people    of  Israel    came    into 


292  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

contact  with  foreign  races,  or  were  carried  into  captivity 
in  strange  lands,  necessitated  new  laws,  new  rules  of 
conduct.  And  as  there  was  no  recognised  authority 
to  issue  a  decree,  no  Parliament  to  pass  an  Act,  the 
wise  Masters,  learned  in  the  law  of  God,  were  com- 
pelled to  lay  down  these  rules,  to  extend  and  qualify 
the  ancient  statutes  till  they  covered  modern  cases  and 
wants.  Thus  in  this  very  Book,  Coheleth  gives  the 
rules  which  should  govern  a  wise  and  pious  Jew  in' 
the  new  relations  of  Traffic  (ch.  iv.,  vv.  4-16),  and  in 
the  service  of  foreign  despots  (ch.  x.,  vv.  1-20).  For 
such  contingencies  as  these  the  Law  made  no  provi- 
sion ;  and  hence  the  rabbis,  who  sat  in  Moses'  chair, 
made  provision  for  them  by  legislating  in  the  spirit 
of  the  Law. 

Even  in  the  application  of  known  and  definite  laws 
there  was  need  for  care,  and  science,  and  thought. 
"  The  Mosaic  code,"  says  Deutsch,  "  has  injunctions 
about  the  Sabbatical  journey ;  the  distance  had  to  be 
measured  and  calculated,  and  mathematics  were  called 
into  play.  Seeds,  plants,  and  animals  had  to  be  studied 
in  connection  with  many  precepts  regarding  them,  and 
natural  history  had  to  be  appealed  to.  Then  there 
were  the  purely  hygienic  paragraphs,  which  necessitated 
for  their  precision  a  knowledge  of  all  the  medical 
science  of  the  time.  The  '  seasons  and  the  feast-days 
were  regulated  by  the  phases  of  the  moon ;  and  astro- 


THE  EPILOGUE.  293 


nomy,  if  only  in  its  elements,  had  to  be  studied."  As 
the  Hebrews  came  successively  into  contact  with  Baby- 
lonians, Persians,  Greeks,  Romans,  the  political  and 
religious  systems  of  these  foreign  races  could  not  fail 
to  leave  some  impressions  on  their  minds,  and  that 
these  impressions  might  not  be  erroneous  and  mis- 
leading, it  became  the  Master  to  acquaint  himself  with 
the  results  of  foreign  thought.  Nay,  "  not  only  was 
science,  in  its  widest  sense,  required  of  him,  but  even 
an  acquaintance  with  its  fantastic  shadows,  such  as 
astrology,  magic,  and  the  rest,  in  order  that,  both  as 
lawgiver  and  judge,  he  might  be  able  to  enter  into 
the  popular  feeling  about  these  'arts,'"  and  wisely 
control  it. 

The  proofs  that  this  varied  knowledge  was  acquired 
and  patiently  applied  to  the  study  of  the  Law  by  these 
"  masters  in  Israel "  are  still  with  us  in  many  learned 
sayings  and  essays  of  that  period  ;  and  in  all  these  the 
conservative  element  or  temper  is  sufficiently  prominent. 
Their  leading  aim  was,  obviously,  to  honour  the  law 
of  Moses ;  to  preserve  its  spirit  even  in  the  new  rules 
or  codes  which  the  changed  circumstances  of  the  time 
imperatively  required  ;  to  fix  their  stakes  and  pitch 
their  tents  in  the  old  fields  of  thought.  So  obvious  is 
this  aim,  even  in  the  familiar  pages  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, that  I  need  not  illustrate  it. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  signs  of  progress  are  no 


294  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

less  decisive,  though  we  may  be  less  familiar  with  them. 
Through  all  this  mass  of  learned  and  deferential  com- 
ment on  the  Mosaic  Code,  there  perpetually  crop  up 
sayings  which  savour  of  the  Gospel  rather  than  of  the 
Law — sayings  that  denote  a  great  advance  in  thought. 
'Study  is  better  than  sacrifice"  for  example,  must  have 
been  a  very  surprising  proverb  to  the  backward-looking 
Jew.  It  is  only  one  of  many  Rabbinical  sayings 
conceived  in  the  same  spirit :  but  would  not  the  whole 
Levitical  family  listen  to  it  with  the  wry,  clouded  face  of 
grave  suspicion  ?  So,  when  Rabbi  Hillel,  anticipating 
the  golden  rule,  said,  "  Do  not  unto  another  what  thou 
wouldest  not  Jiave  another  do  unto  thee ;  this  is  the  whole 
law,  the  rest  is  mere  commentary"  the  lawyers,  with  all 
who  had  trusted  in  ordinances  and  observances,  could 
hardly  fail  to  be  shocked  and  alarmed.  So,  too,  when 
Rabbi  Antigonous  said,  "  Be  not  as  men  who  serve  their 
master  for  the  sake  of  reward,  but  be  like  men  who  serve 
not  looking  for  reward;  "  or  when  Rabbi  Gamaliel  said, 
"  Do  Gods  will  as  if  it  were  thy  will,  that  He  may  accom- 
plish thy  will  as  if  it  were  his,"  there  would  be  many, 
no  doubt,  who  would  feel  that  these  venerable  rabbis 
were  bringing  in  very  novel,  and  possibly  very  danger- 
ous, doctrine.  Nor  could  they  fail  to  see  what  new 
fields  of  thought  were  being  thrown  open  to  them  when 
Coheleth  affirmed  the  future  judgment  and  the  future 
life  of  men.     Such   "words"  as   these  were  in   very 


THE  EPILOGUE.  295 


deed  "  goads,"  correcting  the  errors  of  previous  thought, 
and  urging  men  on  to  new  pastures  of  truth  and 
godhness. 

Sometimes,  as  I  have  said,  the  progressive  Sage  and 
the  conservative  Master  would  be  united  in  the  same 
person ;  for  there  are  those,  though  there  are  not  too 
many  of  them,  who  can  "  stand  on  the  old  ways  "  and 
yet  "  look  for  the  new."  But,  often,  no  doubt,  the  two 
would  be  divided  and  opposed,  then  as  now.  For  in 
thought,  as  in  politics,  there  are  always  two  great 
parties  ;  the  one,  looking  back  with  affectionate  reverence 
and  regret  on  the  past,  and  set  to  "  keep  invention  in  a 
noted  weed  ; "  the  other,  looking  forward  with  eager 
hope  and  desire  to  the  future,  and  attached  to  "new- 
found methods  and  to  compounds  strange  ; "  the  one, 
bent  on  conserving  as  much  as  possible  of  the  large 
heritage  which  our  fathers  have  bequeathed  us ;  the 
other,  bent  on  leaving  a  larger  and  less  encumbered 
inheritance  to  those  that  shall  be  after  them.  The 
danger  of  the  conservative  thinker  is  that  he  may  hold 
the  debts  on  the  estate  as  part  of  the  estate,  that  he  may 
set  himself  against  all  liquidations,  all  better  m.ethods 
of  management,  against  improvement  in  every  form. 
The  danger  of  the  progressive  thinker  is  that,  in  his 
generous  ambition  to  improve  and  enlarge  the  estate, 
he  may  break  violently  from  the  past,  and  cast  away 
many  heirlooms  and  hoarded  treasures  that  would  add 


296  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

largely  to  our  wealth.  The  one  is  too  apt  to  pitch  his 
tents  in  familiar  fields  long  after  they  are  barren  ;  the 
other  is  too  apt  to  drive  men  on  from  old  pastures  to 
new  before  the  old  are  exhausted  or  the  new  ripe. 
And,  surely,  there  never  was  a  larger  or  a  more  tolerant 
heart  than  that  of  the  Preacher  who  has  taught  us  that 
both  these  classes  of  men  and  teachers,  both  the  con- 
servative thinker  and  the  progressive  thinker,  are  of 
God  and  have  each  a  useful  function  to  discharge ;  that 
both  the  shepherd  who  loves  his  tent  and  the  herdsman 
who  wields  the  goad,  both  the  sage  who  urges  us 
forward  and  the  sage  who  holds  us  back,  are  servants 
of  the  one  Great  Pastor,  and  owe  whether  goad  or 
tent-spike  to  Him.  Simply  to  entertain  the  conception 
widens  and  raises  our  minds  ;  to  have  conceived  it  and 
thrown  it  into  this  perfect  form  proves  the  Sacred 
Preacher  to  have  been  all  he  claims  and  more — not 
only  Sage,  Teacher,  Master,  Author,  but  also  a  true 
Poet  and  a  true  man  of  God. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  our  accomplished 
Sage  limits  the  field  of  mental  activity  on  either  hand 
(ver.  12).  His  children,  his  disciples — "my  son"  was 
the  rabbi's  customary  term  for  his  pupils,  as  "rabbi," 
i.e.  "  my  father,"  was  the  title  by  which  the  pupil  ad- 
dressed his  master^ — are  to  beware  both  of  the  "  many 
books "  of  the  making  of  which  there  was  even 
then   "no   end,"   and  of  that   over-addiction   to   study 


THE  EPILOGUE.  297 


which   was   a    "  weariness   to  the  flesh."     The  latter 
caution,    the    warning   against    "  mttch    study,"    was  a 
logical   result    of  that  sense  of  the  sanitary  value  of 
physical  labour  by  which,  as  we  have  seen,  the  masters 
in  Israel  were  profoundly  impressed.     They  held  bodily 
exercise  to  be  good  for  the  soul  as  well  as  for  the  body, 
a  safeguard  against  the  dreamy  abstract  moods  and  the 
vague  fruitless  reveries  which  relax  rather  than  brace 
the  intellectual  fibre,  and  which  tend  to  a  moral  languor 
all  the  more  perilous  because  its  approaches  are  masked 
under  the  semblance  of  mental  occupation.     They  knew 
that  those  who  attempt  or  affect  to  be  "  creatures  too 
bright  and  good  for  human  nature's  daily  food  "  are  apt 
to  sink  below  the  common  level  rather  than  to    rise 
above  it.     They  did  not  want  their  disciples  to  resemble 
many   of   the  young    men    who    lounged    through  the 
philosophical  schools  of  Greece  and  Rome,  and   who, 
though  always  ready  to  discuss  the  "  first  true,   first 
perfect,   first    fair,"    did    nothing  to   raise   the  tone   of 
common  life  whether  by  their  example  or  their  words ; 
young  men,  as  Epictetus  bitterly  remarked  of  some  of 
his  disciples,  whose  philosophy  lay  in  their  cloaks  and 
their  beards  rather  than  in  any  wise  conduct  of  their 
daily  lives  or  any  endeavour  to  better  the  world.     It 
was  their  aim  to  develop  the  whole  man — body,  soul, 
and    spirit ;    to    train    up    useful    citizens    as    well    as 
accomplished  scholars,  to  spread  the  love  and  pursuit 


298  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

of  wisdom  through  the  whole  nation  rather  than  to 
produce  a  separate  and  learned  class.  And,  in  the 
prosecution  of  this  aim,  they  enjoined  neither  the 
exercises  of  the  ancient  palaestra,  nor  athletic  sports 
like  those  in  vogue  at  our  English  seats  of  learning, 
which  are  often  a  mere  waste  of  good  muscle,  but 
useful  and  productive  toils.  With  Ruskin,  they  be- 
lieved, not  in  "the  gospel  of  the  cricket-bat"  or  of  the 
gymnasium,  but  in  the  gospel  of  the  plough  and  the 
spade,  the  saw  and  the  axe,  the  hammer  and  the 
trowel ;  and  saved  their  disciples  from  the  weari- 
ness of  overtaxed  brains  by  requiring  them  to  be- 
come skilled  artisans,  and  to  labour  heartily  in  their 
vocations. 

Nor  is  the  caution  against  "  many  books,"  at  which 
some  critics  have  taken  grave  offence,  the  illiberal 
sentiment  it  has  often  been  pronounced.  For,  no 
doubt,  Coheleth,  like  other  wise  Hebrews,  was  fully 
prepared  to  study  whatever  science  would  throw  light 
on  the  Divine  Law,  or  teach  men  how  to  live.  Mathe- 
matics, astronomy,  natural  history,  medicine,  casuistry, 
the  ethical  and  religious  systems  of  the  East  and  the 
West, — some  knowledge  of  all  these  various  branches 
of  learning  was  necessary,  as  has  been  shown,  to 
those  who  had  to  interpret  and  administer  the  statutes 
of  the  Mosaic  code,  and  to  supplement  them  with  rules 
appropriate  to  the  new  conditions  of  the  time.     In  these 


THE  EPILOGUE.  299 


and  kindred  studies  the  rabbis  were  "  masters  " ;  and 
what  they  knew  they  taught.  That  which  distinguished 
them  from  other  men  of  equal  learning  was  that  they 
did  not  "  love  knowledge  for  its  own  sake  "  merely,  but 
for  its  bearing  on  practice,  on  conduct.  Like  Socrates, 
they  were  not  content  with  a  purely  intellectual  culture, 
but  sought  a  wisdom  that  would  mingle  with  the  blood 
of  men  and  mend  their  ways,  a  wisdom  that  would 
hold  their  baser  passions  in  check,  infuse  new  energy 
into  the  higher  moods  and  aptitudes  of  the  soul,  and 
make  duty  their  supreme  aim  and  delight.  To  secure 
this  great  end,  they  knew  no  method  so  likely  to  prove 
effectual  as  an  earnest,  or  even  an  exclusive,  study  of 
the  Sacred  Scriptures  in  which  they  thought  they  had 
"  eternal  life,"  i.e.  the  true  life  of  man,  the  life  which 
is  independent  of  the  chances  and  changes  of  time. 
Whatever  studies  would  illuminate  and  illustrate  these 
Scriptures  they  pursued  and  encouraged ;  whatever 
might  divert  attention  from  them,  they  discouraged 
and  condemned.  Many  of  them,  as  we  learn  from  the 
Talmud,  refused  to  write  down  the  discourses  they  de- 
livered in  School  or  Synagogue  lest,  by  making  books 
of  their  own,  they  should  withdraw  attention  from  the 
Inspired  Writings.  It  was  better  they  thought  to  read 
the  Scriptures  than  any  commentary  on  the  Scriptures, 
and  hence  they  confined  themselves  to  oral  instruc- 
tion :  even   their  profoundest    and    most    characteristic 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


sayings  would  have  perished  if  "  fond  tradition  "  had 
not  "  babbled  "  of  them  for  many  an  age  to  come. 

If  the  sentiment  which  dictated  this  course  was  in 
part  a  mistaken  sentiment,  it  sprang  from  a  noble 
motive.  For  no  ordinance  could  be  more  self-denying 
to  a  learned  and  literary  class  than  one  which  forbade 
them  to  put  on  record  the  results  of  their  researches, 
the  conclusions  of  their  wisdom,  and  thus  to  win  name 
and  fame  and  use  in  after  generations.  But  was  their 
course,  after  all,  one  which  calls  for  censure  ?  Has 
the  world  ever  produced  a  literature  so  noble,  so  pure, 
so  lofty  and  heroic  in  its  animating  spirit,  as  that  of 
the  Hebrew  historians  and  poets  ?  "  The  world  is 
forwarded  by  having  its  attention  fixed  on  the  best 
things,"  says  Matthew  Arnold  in  his  Preface  to  his 
selection  of  Wordsworth's  poems,  and  proceeds  to 
define  the  best  things  as  those  works  of  the  great 
masters  of  song  which  have  won  the  approval  "  of  the 
whole  group  of  civilised  nations."  But  even  those 
whom  the  civilised  world  has  acclaimed  as  its  highest 
and  best  have  confessed  that  in  the  Bible,  viewed 
simply  as  literature,  their  noblest  work  is  far  excelled  : 
and  what  sane  man  will  deny  that  "  Faust,"  for  example, 
would  cut  a  sorry  figure  if  compared  with  "  Job,"  which 
our  own  greatest  living  poet  has  pronounced  ^' the  finest 
poem  whether  of  ancient  or  of  modern  times,"  or  Words- 
worth himself  if  placed  side  by  side  with  Isaiah  ?    Who 


THE  EPILOGUE. 


can  doubt,  then,  that  the  world  would  have  been  "  for- 
warded" if  its  attention  had  been  fixed  on  this  "best"? 
Who  can  doubt  that  it  would  be  infinitely  sweeter  and 
better  than  it  is  if  these  ancient  Scriptures  had  been 
studied  before  and  above  all  other  writings,  if  they  had 
been  brooded  over  and  wrought  into  the  minds  of  men 
till  "  the  life  "  in  them  had  been  assimilated  and  repro- 
duced ?  The  man  who  has  had  a  classical  or  scientific 
education,  and  profited  by  it,  must  be  an  ingrate  indeed, 
unless  he  be  the  slave  of  some  dominant  crotchet,  if  he 
do  not  hold  in  grateful  reverence  the  great  masters  at 
whose  feet  he  has  sat ;  but  the  man  who  has  really 
found  "  life  "  in  the  Scriptures  must  be  worse  than  an 
ingrate  if  he  does  not  feel  that  a  merely  mental  culture 
is  a  small  good  when  compared  with  the  treasures  of 
an  eternal  life,  if  he  does  not  admit  that  the  main 
object  of  all  education  should  be  to  conduct  men 
through  a  course  of  intellectual  training  which  shall 
culminate  in  a  moral  and  spiritual  discipline.  To  be 
wise  is  much  ;  but  how  much  more  is  it  to  be  good  ! 
Better  be  a  child  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  than  a 
philosopher  or  a  pcet  hanging  vaguely  about  its 
outskirts. 

If  any  of  us  still  suspect  the  Preacher's  words  of 
illiberality,  and  say,  "  There  was  no  need  to  oppose  the 
one  Book  to  the  many,  and  to  depreciate  these  in  order 
to  magnify  that,"  we  ha^e  qnlyvto  consid&i;  the  historical 


\/a. 


THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


circumstances  in  which  he  wrote  in  order  to  acquit  him 
of  the    charge.     For   generations  the   Holy  Scriptures 
had   been   neglected   by  the  Jews ;  copies   had  grown 
scarce,  and  were  hidden  away  in  obscure  nooks  in  which 
they  were  hard  to  find ;  some  of  the  inspired  writings 
had  been  lost,  and  have  not  been  recovered  to  this  day. 
The  people  were  ignorant  of  their  own    history,   and 
law,  and  hope.     Suddenly  they  were  awaked  from  the 
slumber  of  indifference,  to  find  themselves  in    a  night 
of  ignorance.     During  the  miseries  of  the  Captivity  a 
longing  for  the    Divine   Word    was    quickened    within 
them.     They  were  eager  to  acquaint  themselves  with 
the  Revelation  which  they  had  neglected  and  forgotten. 
And  their  teachers,  the  few  men  who  knew  and  loved 
the  Word,  set  themselves  to  deepen  and  to  satisfy  the 
craving.      They  multiplied  copies  of  the  Scriptures,  cir- 
culated them,  explained  them  in  the  Schools,  exhorted 
from   them  in  the  Synagogues.     And,  till    the    people 
were   familiar  with    the    Scriptures,    the    wiser   rabbis 
would  not  write  books  of  their  own,  and  looked  with  a 
jealous  eye  on  the  "  many  books  "  bred  by  the  literary 
activity  of  the    time.     It  was    the  very  feeling  which 
preceded  and    accompanied    the  EngHsh   Reformation. 
Then  the  newly-discovered  Bible  threw  all  other  books 
into  the  shade.     The  people  thirsted  for  the  pure  Word 
of  God  ;  and  the  leaders  of  the  Reformation  were  very 
well  content  that  they  should  read  nothing  else  till  they 


THE  EPILOGUE. 


had  read  that;  that  they  should  leave  all  other  fountains 
to  drink  of  "the  river  of  life."  The  translation  and 
circulation  of  the  Scriptures  was  the  one  vi^ork,  almost 
the  exclusive  work,  to  which  they  bent  their  energies. 
Like  the  Jewish  rabbis,  Tyndale  and  his  fellow-labourers 
did  not  care  to  write  books  themselves,  nor  wish  the 
people  to  read  the  books  they  were  compelled  to  write 
in  self-defence.  There  is  a  remarkable  passage  in 
Fryth's  Scripture  Doctrine  of  the  Sacrament,  in  which, 
replying  to  Sir  Thomas  More,  the  Reformer  says : 
"This  hath  been  offered  you,  is  offered,  and  shall  be 
offered.  Grant  that  the  Word  of  God,  I  mean  the 
text  of  Scripture,  may  go  abroad  in  our  English 
tongue  .  ,  .  and  my  brother  Tyndale  and  I  have  done, 
and  will  promise  you  to  write  no  more.  If  you  will 
not  grant  this  condition,  then  will  we  be  doing  while 
we  have  breath,  and  show  in  few  words  that  the 
Scripture  doth  in  many,  and  so  at  the  least  save  some." 
The  Hebrew  Reformers  of  the  school  of  Coheleth  were 
animated  by  precisely  the  same  .lofty  and  generous 
spirit.  They  were  content  to  be  nothing,  that  the 
Word  of  God  might  be  all  in  all.  "  The  Bible,  and 
the  Bible  only,"  they  conceived  to  be  the  want  of  their 
age  and  race ;  and  hence  they  were  content  to  forego 
the  honours  of  authorship,  and  the  study  of  many 
branches  of  learning  which  under  other  conditions  they 
would   have  been  glad  to  pursue,  and   besought  their 


304  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

disciples  to  concentrate  all  their  thoughts  on  the  one 
Book  which  was  able  to  make  them  wise  unto  sal- 
vation. Learned  themselves,  and  often  profoundly 
learned,  it  was  no  contempt  for  learning  which  actuated 
them,  but  a  devout  godliness  and  the  fervours  of  a 
most  self-denying  piety. 

So  far  the  Epilogue  may  seem  a  mere  digression,  not 
without  interest  and  value  indeed,  but  having  no  vital 
connection  with  the  main  theme  of  the  Poem.  It  tells 
us  that  the  Preacher  was  a  sage,  a  recognised  official 
teacher,  the  master  of  an  assembly,  a  doctor  of  laws, 
an  author  who  had  expended  much  labour  on  many 
proverbs,  a  conservative  shepherd  pitching  his  tent 
on  familiar  fields  of  thought,  a  progressive  herdsman 
goading  men  on  to  new  pastures — not  Solomon  there- 
fore, by  the  way,  for  who  would  have  described  him 
in  such  terms  as  these  ?  If  we  are  glad  to  know  so 
much  of  him,  we  cannot  but  ask.  What  has  all  this  to 
do  with  the  quest  of  the  Chief  Good  ?  It  has  this  to 
do  with  it.  Coheleth  has  achieved  the  quest ;  he  has 
solved  his  problem,  and  has  given  us  his  solution 
of  it.  He  is  about  to  repeat  that  solution.  To  give 
emphasis  and  force  to  the  repetition,  that  he  may  carry 
his  readers  more  fully  with  him,  he  dwells  on  his 
claims  to  their  respect,  their  confidence,  their  affection. 
He  is  all  that  they  most  admire ;  he  carries  the  very 
authority  to  which  they  most  willingly  defer.     If,  they 


THE  EPILOGUE.  305 


know  this — and,  scattered  as  they  were  through  many 
cities  and  provinces,  how  should  they  know  it  unless 
he  told  them  ? — they  cannot  refuse  him  a  hearing ;  they 
will  be  predisposed  to  accept  his  conclusion ;  they  will 
be  sure  not  to  reject  it  without  consideration.  It  is 
not  out  of  any  personal  conceit,  therefore,  nor  any 
pride  of  learning,  nor  even  that  he  may  grant  himself 
the  relief  of  lifting  his  mask  from  his  face  for  a  moment, 
that  he  recounts  his  titles  to  their  regard.  He  is  simply 
gathering  force  from  the  willing  respect  and  deference 
of  his  readers  in  order  that  he  may  plant  his  final 
conclusion  more  strongly  and  more  deeply  in  their 
hearts. 

And  what  is  the  conclusion  which  he  is  at  such 
pains  to  enforce?  ^' The  conclusion  of  the  matter  is 
this;  that  God  taketh  cognizance  of  all  things :  fear  Hinty 
therefore,  and  keep  his  commandments,  for  this  it  be- 
hoveth  every  man  to  do;  since  God  will  bring  every  deed 
to  the  judgment  appointed  for  every  secret  thing,  whether 
it  be  good  or  whether  it  be  bad'*  (vv.  13,  14). 

Now  that  this  "  conclusion  "  is  simply  a  repetition,  in 
part  expanded  and  in  part  condensed,  of  that  with  which 
the  Preacher  closes  the  previous  Section,  is  obvious. 
There  he  incites  men  to  a  life  of  virtue  with  two  lead- 
ing motives  :  first,  by  the  fact  of  the  present  constant 
judgment  of  God  ;  and,  secondly,  by  the  prospect  of  a 
future,  a  more  searching  and  decisive,  judgment.     Here 

20 


3o6  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

he  appeals  to  precisely  the  same  motives,  though  now, 
instead  of  implying  a  present  judgment  under  the  in- 
junction "  Remember  thy  Creator,"  he  broadly  affirms 
that  "  God  takes  note  of  all  things ; "  and,  instead  of 
simply  reminding  the  young  that  God  will  bring  "  the 
ways  of  their  heart "   into  judgment,   he  defines  that 
future  judgment  at  once  more  largely  and  more  exactly 
as  "  appointed  for  every  secret  thing  "  and  extending 
to  "every  deed,"  both  good  and  bad.     In  dealing  with 
the  motives  of  a  virtuous  life,  therefore,  he  goes  a  little 
beyond  his  former  lines  of  thought,  gives  them  a  wider 
scope,  makes  them  more  sharp  and  definite.     On  the 
other  hand,  in  speaking  of  the  forms  which  the  virtuous 
or  ideal  life  assumes,  he  is  very  curt  and  brief.     All 
he  has  to  say  on  that  point  now  is,  "  Fear  God  and 
keep  his   commandments ; "    whereas,   in  his  previous 
treatment  of  it,  he  had  much  to  say,  bidding  us,  for 
instance,  "  cast  our  bread  upon  the  waters,"  and  "  give 
a   portion  to   seven,  and   even  to  eight ; "   bidding  us 
"  sow  our  seed   morning  and   evening,"  though  "  the 
clouds  "  should  be  "  full  of  rain,"  and  whatever  "  the 
course  of  the  wind  ; "  bidding  us  "  rejoice  "  in  all  our 
labours,   and   carry   to   all  our  self-denials   the   merry 
heart  that  physics  pain.     As  we  studied  the  meaning 
of  the   beautiful  metaphors  of  chapter  xi.,  sought   to 
gather  up  their  several  meanings  into  an  orderly  con- 
nection, and  to  express  them  in  a  more  literal  logical 


THE  EPILOGUE.  307 


form — to  translate  them,  in  short,  from  the  Eastern  to 
the  Western  mode — we  found  that  the  main  virtues 
enjoined  by  the  Preacher  were  charity,  industry,  cheer- 
fulness ;  the  charity  which  does  good  hoping  for  nothing 
again,  the  industry  which  bends  itself  to  the  present 
duty  in  scorn  of  omen  or  consequence  ;  and  the  cheer- 
fulness which  springs  from  a  consciousness  of  the 
Divine  presence,  from  the  conviction  that,  however 
men  may  misjudge  us,  God  knows  us  altogether  and 
will  do  us  justice.  This  was  our  summary  of  the 
Preacher's  argument,  of  his  solution  of  the  supreme 
moral  problem  of  human  life.  Here,  in  the  Epilogue, 
he  gives  us  his  own  summary  in  the  words,  "Fear 
God,  and  keep  his  commandments." 

If  we  compare  these  two  summaries,  there  seems  at 
first  rather  difference  than  resemblance  between  them  : 
the  one  appears,  if  more  indefinite,  much  more  com- 
prehensive, than  the  other.  Yet  there  is  one  point  of 
resemblance  which  soon  strikes  us.  For  we  know  by 
this  time  that  on  the  Preacher's  lips  "  Fear  God  "  does 
not  mean  "  Be  afraid  of  God  ; "  that  it  indicates  and 
demands  just  that  reverent  sense  of  the  Divine  Presence, 
that  strong  inward  conviction  of  the  constant  judgment 
He  passes  on  all  our  ways  and  motives  and  thoughts, 
which  Coheleth  has  already  affirmed  to  be  a  prime 
safeguard  of  virtue.  It  is  the  phrase  "  and  keep  his 
commandments"    that    sounds    so   much   larger   than 


3o8  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

anything  we  have  heard  from  him  before,  so  much  more 
comprehensive.  For  the  commandments  of  God  are 
many  and  very  broad.  He  reveals  his  will  in  the 
natural  universe  and  the  laws  which  govern  it ;  laws 
which,  as  we  are  part  of  the  universe,  we  need  to  know 
and  to  obey.  He  reveals  his  will  in  the  social  and 
political  forces  which  govern  the  history  and  develop- 
ment of  the  various  races  of  mankind,  which  therefore 
meet  and  affect  us  at  every  turn.  He  reveals  his  will 
in  the  ethical  intuitions  and  codes  which  govern  the 
formation  of  character,  which  enter  into  and  give  shape 
to  all  in  us  that  is  most  spiritual,  profound,  and  endur- 
ing. To  keep  all  the  commandments  revealed  in  these 
immense  fields  of  Divine  activity  with  an  intelligent 
and  invariable  obedience  is  simply  impossible  to  us ;  it 
is  the  perfection  which  flows  round  our  imperfection, 
and  towards  which  it  is  our  one  great  task  to  be  ever 
reaching  forth.  Is  it  as  inciting  us  to  this  impossible 
perfection  that  the  Preacher  bids  us  "  fear  God  and 
keep  his  commandments  "  ? 

Yes  and  No.  It  is  not  as  having  this  large  perfect 
ideal  distinctly  before  his  mind  that  he  utters  the 
injunction,  although  in  the  course  of  this  Book  he  has 
glanced  at  every  element  of  it ;  nor  even  as  having  so 
much  of  it  in  his  mind  as  is  expressed  in  the  law  that 
eame  by  Moses,  although  that  too  includes  precepts  for 
the  physical  and  the  political  as  well  as  for  the  moral 


THE  EPILOGUE.  309 


and  religious  provinces  of  human  life.  What  he  meant 
by  bidding  us  "  keep  the  commandments "  was,  I 
apprehend,  that  we  should  take  the  counsels  he  has 
already  given  us,  and  follow  after  charity,  industry, 
cheerfulness.  Every  other  phrase  in  this  final  "con- 
clusion "  IS,  as  we  have  seen,  a  repetition  of  the  truths 
announced  at  the  close  of  the  previous  Section,  and 
therefore  we  may  fairly  assume  this  phrase  to  contain 
a  truth — the  truth  of  Duty — which  he  there  illustrates. 
Throughout  the  whole  Book  there  is  not  a  single 
technical  allusion,  no  allusion  to  the  Temple,  to  the 
feasts,  to  the  sacrifices,  rites,  ceremonies  of  the  Law ; 
and  therefore  we  can  hardly  take  this  reference  to  the 
"  commandments  "  as  an  allusion  to  the  Mosaic  table. 
By  the  rules  of  fair  interpretation  we  are  bound  to 
take  these  commandments  as  previously  defined  by  the 
Preacher  himself,  to  understand  him  as  once  more 
enforcing  the  virtues  which,  for  him,  comprised  the 
whole  duty  of  man. 

Do  we  thus  limit  and  degrade  the  moral  ideal,  or 
represent  him  as  degrading  and  limiting  it  ?  By  no 
means  :  for  to  love  our  neighbour,  to  discharge  the 
present  duty  whatever  rain  may  fall  and  whatever 
storm  may  blow,  to  carry  a  bright  hopeful  spirit 
through  all  our  toils  and  charities  ;  to  do  this  in  the 
fear  of  God,  as  in  his  Presence,  because  He  is  judging 
and    will  judge    us — this,   surely,   includes    all   that   is 


310  THE  BOOK   OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

essential  even  in  the  loftiest  ideal  of  moral  duty  and 
perfection.  For  how  are  we  to  be  cheerful  and  dutiful 
and  kind  except  as  we  obey  the  commandments  of 
God  in  whatever  form  they  may  have  been  revealed  ? 
The  diseases  which  result  from  a  violation  of  sanitary 
laws,  as  also  the  ignorance  or  the  wilfulness  or  the 
impotence  which  lead  us  to  violate  social  or  ethical 
laws,  of  necessity  and  by  natural  consequence  impair 
our  cheerfulness,  our  strength  for  laborious  duties, 
our  neighbourly  serviceableness  and  good-will.  To 
live  the  life  which  the  Preacher  enjoins,  on  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  motives  which  he  supplies,  is  therefore,  in 
the  largest  and  broadest  sense,  to  keep  the  command- 
ments of  God. 

What  advantage,  then,  is  there  in  saying,  "  Be  kind, 
be  dutiful,  be  cheerful,"  over  saying,  "  Obey  the  laws  of 
God  "  ?  There  is  this  great  practical  advantage  that, 
while  in  the  last  resort  the  one  rule  of  life  is  as  com- 
prehensive as  the  other,  and  just  as  difficult,  it  is  more 
definite,  more  portable,  and  does  not  sound  so  difficult. 
It  is  the  very  advantage  which  our  Lord's  memorable 
summary,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all 
thy  heart,  and  thy  neighbour  as  thyself,"  has  over  the 
Law  and  the  Prophets.  Bid  a  man  keep  the  whole 
Mosaic  code  as  interpreted  by  the  prophets  of  a  thousand 
years,  and  you  set  him  a  task  so  heavy,  so  hopeless, 
that  he  may  well  decline  it;  only  to  understand   the 


THE  EPILOGUE.  311 


bearing  and  harmony  of  the  Mosaic  statutes,  and  to 
gather  the  sense  in  which  the  prophets — to  say  nothing 
of  the  rabbis — interpreted  them,  is  the  labour  of  a  life- 
time, a  labour  for  which  even  the  whole  life  of  a  trained 
scholar  is  insufficient.  But  bid  him  "  love  God  and 
man,"  and  you  give  him  a  principle  which  his  own 
conscience  at  once  accepts  and  confirms,  a  golden  rule 
or  principle  which  if  he  be  of  a  good  heart  and  a 
willing  mind,  he  will  be  able  to  apply  to  the  details  and 
problems  of  life  as  they  arise.  In  like  manner  if  you 
say :  "  The  true  ideal  of  life  is  to  be  reached  only  by 
the  man  who  comprehends  and  obeys  all  the  laws  of 
God  revealed  in  the  physical  universe,  in  the  history  of 
humanity,  in  the  moral  intuitions  and  discoveries  of  the 
race,"  you  set  men  a  task  so  stupendous  as  that  no 
man  ever  has  or  will  be  able  to  accomplish  it.  Say,  on 
the  other  hand,  "  Do  the  duty  of  every  hour  as  it  passes, 
without  fretting  about  future  issues  ;  help  your  neigh- 
bour to  do  his  duty  or  to  bear  his  burden,  even  though 
he  may  never  have  helped  you  ;  be  blithe  and  cheerful 
even  when  your  work  is  hard  and  your  neighbour  is 
ungrateful  or  unkind,"  and  you  speak  straight  to  a 
man's  heart,  to  his  sense  of  what  is  right  and  good ; 
you  summon  every  noble  and  generous  instinct  of  his 
nature  to  his  aid.  He  can  begin  to  practise  this  rule 
of  life  without  preliminary  and  exhausting  study  of  its 
meaning ;  and  if  he  finds  it  work,  as  assuredly  he  will, 


312  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

he  will  be  encouraged  to  make  it  his  rule.  He  will 
soon  discover,  indeed,  that  it  means  more  than  he 
thought,  that  it  is  not  so  easy  to  apply  to  the  com- 
plexities of  human  affairs,  that  it  is  very  much  harder 
to  keep  than  he  supposed  :  but  its  depth  and  difficulty 
will  open  on  him  gradually,  as  he  is  able  to  bear  them. 
If  his  heart  now  and  then  faint,  if  hand  and  foot  falter, 
still  God  is  with  him,  with  him  to  help  and  reward  as 
well  as  to  judge ;  and  that  conviction  once  in  his 
mind  is  there  for  ever,  a  constant  spur  to  thought,  to 
obedience,  to  patience. 

In  nothing,  indeed,  does  the  wisdom  of  the  Hebrew 
sages  show  its  superiority  over  that  of  the  other  sages 
of  antiquity  more  decisively  than  in  its  adaptation  to 
the  practical  needs  of  men  busied  in  the  common  affairs 
of  life,  and  with  no  learning  and  no  leisure  for  the 
study  of  large  intricate  problems.  It  comes  straight 
down  into  the  beaten  ways  of  men.  If  you  read  Con- 
fucius, for  example,  and  still  more  if  you  read  Plato,  you 
cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with  their  immense  grasp  of 
thought,  or  their  profound  learning,  or  even  their  moral 
enthusiasm ;  as  you  read,  you  will  often  meet  with  wise 
rules  of  life  expressed  in  beautiful  forms.  And  yet  your 
main  feehng  will  be  that  they  give  you,  and  men  like  you, 
if  at  least  you  be  of  the  common  build,  as  most  of  us 
are,  little  help  ;  that  unless  you  had  their  rare  endow- 
ments, or  could  give  yourself  largely  and  long  to  the 


THE  EPILOGUE. 


Study  of  their  works,  you  could  hardly  hope  to  learn 
what  they  have  to  teach,  or  order  your  life  by  their 
plan.  And  that  this  feeling  is  just  is  proved  by  the 
histories  of  China  and  Greece,  different  as  they  are. 
In  China  only  students,  only  literati,  are  so  much  as 
supposed  to  understand  the  Confucian  system  of  thought 
and  ethics ;  the  great  bulk  of  the  people  have  to  be 
content  with  a  few  rules  and  forms  and  rites  which  are 
imposed  on  them  by  authority.  In  ancient  Greece,  the 
wisdom  to  which  her  great  masters  attained  was  only 
taught  in  the  Schools  to  men  addicted  to  philosophical 
studies ;  even  the  natural  and  moral  truths  on  which 
the  popular  mythology  was  based  were  hidden  in 
"  mysteries  "  open  only  to  the  initiated  few  ;  while  the 
great  mass  of  the  people  were  amused  with  fables 
which  they  misapprehended,  and  with  rites  which  they 
soon  degraded  into  licentious  orgies.  No  man  cared 
for  their  souls ;  their  errors  were  not  corrected,  their 
license  was  not  rebuked.  Their  wise  men  made  no 
effort  to  lift  them  to  a  height  from  which  they  might 
see  that  the  whole  of  morality  lay  in  the  love  of  God 
and  man,  in  charity,  diligent  devotion  to  duty,  cheer- 
fulness. But  it  was  far  otherwise  with  the  Hebrews 
and  their  sages.  Men  such  as  the  Preacher  confined 
themselves  to  no  school  or  class,  but  carried  their 
wisdom  to  the  synagogue,  to  the  market-place,  to  the 
popular  assemblies.      They  invented    no    "  mysteries,' 


314  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

but  brought  down  the  mysteries  of  Heaven  to  the 
understanding  of  the  simple.  Instead  of  engaging  in 
lofty  abstract  speculations  in  which  only  the  learned 
could  follow  them,  they  compressed  the  loftiest  wisdom 
into  plain  moral  rules  which  the  unlettered  could 
apprehend,  and  urged  them  to  obedience  by  motives  and 
promises  which  went  home  to  the  popular  heart.  And 
they  had  their  reward.  The  truths  they  taught  became 
familiar  to  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  Hebrew  men ; 
they  became  a  factor,  and  the  most  influential  factor, 
in  the  national  life.  Fishermen,  carpenters,  tent- 
makers,  sandal-makers,  shepherds,  husbandmen,  grew 
studious  of  the  Divine  Will  and  learned  the  secrets  of 
righteousness  and  peace.  During  the  wonderful  revival 
of  literary  and  religious  activity  which  followed  the 
exile  in  Babylon — a  revival  mainly  owing  to  these  Sages 
— every  child  was  compelled  to  attend  a  common 
school  in  which  the  sacred  Scriptures  were  taught  by 
the  ablest  and  most  learned  rabbis  ;  in  which,  as  we 
learn  from  the  Talmud,  the  duty  of  leading  a  religious 
life  in  all  outward  conditions,  even  to  the  poorest,  was 
impressed  upon  them,  and  the  virtues  of  charity, 
industry,  and  cheerfulness  were  enforced  as  the  very 
soul  of  religion.  Here,  for  example,  is  a  legend  from 
the  Talmud,  and  it  is  only  one  of  many,  which  illus- 
trates and  confirms  all  that  has  just  been  said. — "  A 
sage,    while    walking     in     a    crowded     market-place 


THE  EPILOGUE.  315 


suddenly  encountered  the  prophet  Elijah,  and  asked 
him  who,  out  of  that  vast  multitude,  would  be  saved. 
Whereupon  the  Prophet  first  pointed  out  a  weird- 
looking  creature,  a  turnkey,  '  because  he  was  merciful 
to  his  prisoners,'  and  next  two  common-looking 
tradesmen  who  were  walking  through  the  crowd, 
pleasantly  chatting  together.  The  sage  instantly 
rushed  after  them,  and  asked  them  what  were  their 
saving  works.  But  they,  much  puzzled,  replied  :  *  We 
are  but  poor  working-men  who  live  by  our  trade.  All 
that  can  be  said  for  us  is  that  we  are  always  cheerful 
and  good-natured.  When  we  meet  anybody  who  seems 
sad,  we  join  him,  and  we  talk  to  him,  and  cheer  him  up, 
that  he  may  forget  his  grief.  And  if  we  know  of  two 
people  who  have  quarrelled,  we  talk  to  them,  and 
persuade  them  till  we  have  made  them  friends  again. 
This  is  our  whole  life.'  "  It  is  impossible  that  such 
a  legend  should  have  sprung  up  on  any  but  Hebrew 
soil.  Had  Confucius  been  asked  to  point  out  the  man 
whom  Heaven  most  approved,  he  would  probably  have 
replied,  "  The  superior  man  is  catholic,  not  sectarian  ; 
he  is  observant  of  the  rules  of  propriety  and  decorum  ; 
and  he  does  not  do  to  others  what  he  would  not  have 
done  to  himself:  "^  and  he  would  certainly  have  looked 

^This  partial  anticipation  of  the  Golden  Rule  will  be  found 
in  the  Confucian  Analects,  book  xv.,  chap,  xxiii.  "  Tsze-kung 
asked,  saying,  '  Is   there  one  word  which  may  serve  as  a  rule 


3i6  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

for  him  in  some  state  official  distinguisiied  by  his  wise 
administration.  Had  any  of  the  Greek  sages  been 
asked  the  same  question,  they  would  have  found  their 
perfect  man  in  the  philosopher  who,  raised  above  the 
common  passions  and  aims  of  men,  gave  himself  to  the 
pursuit  of  an  abstract  and  speculative  wisdom.  Only 
a  Hebrew  would  have  looked  for  him  in  that  low  estate 
in  which  the  one  truly  Perfect  Man  dwelt  among  us. 
And  yet  how  that  Hebrew  legend  charms  and  touches 
and  satisfies  us  !  What  a  hope  for  humanity  there  is 
in  the  thought  that  the  poor  weird-looking  jailer  who 
was  merciful  to  his  prisoners,  and  the  kindly,  industri- 
ous, cheerful  working-men,  living  by  their  craft,  and 
incapable  of  regarding  their  diligence  and  good-nature 
as  "  saving  works,"  stood  higher  than  priest  or  rabbi, 
ruler  or  philosopher  !  How  welcome  and  ennobling  is 
the  conviction  that  there  are  last  who  yet  are  first — 
last  with  men,  first  with  God ;  that  turnkeys  and 
artisans,  publicans  and  sinners  even,  may  draw  nearer 
to  Heaven  than  sophist  or  flamen,  sage  or  prince ! 
Who  so  poor  but  that  he  has  a  little  "  bread  "  to  cast 


of  practice  for  all  one's  life  ? '  The  Master  said,  '  Is  not  reci- 
procity such  a  word  ?  What  you  do  not  want  done  to  yourself, 
do  not  do  to  others.'"  The  same  rule  is  given  in  another  form 
in  book  v.,  chap,  i  of  the  Analects,  The  other  phrases  I  have 
put  into  the  sage's  mouth  are  quoted  from  Dr.  Legge's  translation 
of  this  work. 


THE  EPILOGUE.  317 


on  the  thankless  unreturning  waters  ?  who  so  faint  of 
heart  but  that  he  may  sow  a  little  "  seed  "  even  when 
the  winds  rave  and  the  sky  is  full  of  clouds  ?  who  so 
solitary  and  forlorn  but  that  he  may  say  a  word  of 
comfort  to  a  weeping  neighbour,  or  seek  to  make  "  two 
people  who  have  quarrelled  friends  again  "  ?  And  this 
is  all  that  the  Preacher,  all  that  God  through  the  Preachen 
asks  of  us. 

All — yet  even  this  is  much ;  even  for  this  we  shall 
need  the  pressure  of  constant  and  weighty  motives  : 
for  it  is  not  only  occasional  acts  which  are  required  of 
us,  but  settled  tempers  and  habits  of  goodwill,  industry, 
and  cheerfulness ;  and  to  love  all  men,  to  rejoice 
alway,  to  do  our  duty  in  all  weathers  and  all  moods, 
is  very  hard  work  to  our  feeble,  selfish,  and  easily- 
dejected  natures.  Does  the  Preacher  supply  us  with 
such  motives  as  we  need  ?  He  offers  us  two  motives  ; 
one  in  the  present  judgment,  another  in  the  future 
judgment  of  God.  "  God  is  with  you,"  he  says,  "  taking 
cognizance  of  all  you  do  ;  and  you  will  soon  be  with 
God,  to  give  Him  an  account  of  every  secret  and  every 
deed."  But  that  is  an  appeal  to  fear — is  it  not  ?  It  is, 
rather,  an  appeal  to  love  and  hope.  He  has  no  thought 
of  frightening  us  into  obedience — for  the  obedience  of 
fear  is  not  worth  having,  is  not  obedience  in  the  true 
sense ;  but  he  is  trying  to  win  and  allure  us  to  obedi- 
ence.     For  whatever  terrors  God's  judgment  or  the 


3i8  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

future  world  may  have  for  us,  it  is  very  certain  that 
these  terrors  were  in  large  measure  unknown  to  the 
Jews.  The  Talmud  knows  nothing  of  "  hell,"  nothing 
of  an  everlasting  torture.  Even  the  "Sheol"  of  the 
Old  Testament  is  simply  the  "  under-world  "  in  which 
the  Jews  believed  the  spirits  of  both  good  men  and  bad 
to  be  gathered  after  death.  And,  to  the  Jews  for  whom 
Coheleth  wrote,  the  judgment  of  God,  whether  here  or 
hereafter,  would  have  singular  and  powerful  attractions. 
They  were  in  captivity  to  merciless  and  capricious 
despots  who  took  no  pains  to  understand  their  cha- 
racter or  to  deal  with  them  according  to  their  works, 
who  had  no  sense  of  justice,  no  kindness,  no  ruth  for 
slaves.  For  men  thus  oppressed  and  hopeless  there 
would  be  an  infinite  comfort  in  the  thought  that  God, 
the  Great  Ruler  and  Disposer,  knew  them  altogether, 
saw  all  their  struggles  to  maintain  his  worship  and 
to  acquaint  themselves  with  his  will,  took  note  of  every 
wrong  they  suffered,  "  was  afflicted  in  all  their  afQic- 
tions,"  and  would  one  day  call  both  them  and  their 
oppressors  to  the  bar  at  which  all  wrongs  are  at  once 
righted  and  avenged.  Would  it  affright  them  to  hear 
that  "  God  taketh  cognizance  of  all  things,"  and  has 
"  appointed  a  judgment  for  every  secret  and  every 
deed  "  ?  Would  not  this  be,  rather,  their  strongest 
consolation,  their  brightest  hope  ?  Would  they  not  do 
their  duty  with  better  heart  if  they  knew  that   God 


THE  EPILOGUE.  319 


saw  how  hard  it  was  to  do  ?  Would  they  not  show 
a  more  constant  kindness  to  their  neighbours,  if  they 
knew  that  God  would  openly  reward  every  alms  done 
in  secret  ?  Would  they  not  carry  a  blither  and  more 
patient  spirit  to  all  their  labours  and  afflictions  if  they 
knew  that  a  day  of  recompenses  was  at  hand  ?  The 
Preacher  thought  they  would  ;  and  hence  he  bids  them 
"  rejoice,"  bids  them  "  banish  care  and  sadness,"  because 
God  will  bring  them  into  judgment,  and  incites  them 
to  "  keep  the  commandments  "  because  God's  eye  is 
upon  them,  and  because,  in  the  judgment.  He  will  not 
forget  the  work  of  their  obedience,  the  labour  of  their 
love. 

This,  to  some  of  us,  may  be  a  novel  view  whether 
of  the  present  or  of  the  future  judgment  of  God.  For 
the  most  part,  I  fear,  we  speak  of  the  Divine  judgments 
as  terrible  and  well-nigh  unendurable.  We  would 
escape  them  even  here,  if  we  could  ;  but,  above  all,  we 
dread  them  when  we  shall  stand  before  the  bar  at 
which  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  will  be  disclosed.  Now 
we  need  not,  and  we  must  not,  lose  ought  of  the  awe 
and  reverence  for  Him  who  is  our  God  and  Father 
which,  so  far  from  impairing,  deepens  our  love.  But 
we  need  to  remember  that  fear  is  base,  that  it  is  the 
enemy  of  love ;  that  so  long  as  we  anticipate  the 
Divine  judgments  only  or  mainly  with  dread,  we  are 
far  from  the   love  which   gives  value   and   charm   to 


320  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

obedience ;  and  that,  if  we  are  to  be  good  and  at  peace, 
we  must  "  shut  out  fear  with  all  the  strength  of  hope." 
What  is  it  that  we  fear  ?  Suffering  !  But  why  should 
we  fear  that,  if  it  will  make  us  perfect  ?  Death  !  But 
why  should  we  fear  that,  if  it  will  take  us  home  to  our 
Father  ?  God's  anger !  But  God  is  not  angry  with 
us  if  we  love  Him  and  try  to  do  his  will ;  He  loves  us 
even  when  we  sin  against  Him,  and  shows  his  love  in 
making  the  way  of  sin  so  hard  to  us  that  we  are  con- 
strained to  leave  it.  Ought  we,  then,  to  dread,  ought 
we  not  rather  to  desire,  the  judgments  by  which  we  are 
corrected,  purified,  saved  ? 

"  But  the  future  judgment — that  is  so  dreadful !  " 
Is  it  ?  God  knows  us  as  we  are  already  :  is  it  so  very 
much  worse  that  we  should  know  ourselves,  and  that 
our  neighbours  should  know  us  ?  If  among  our 
"  secrets  "  there  be  many  things  evil,  are  there  not  at 
least  some  that  are  good  ?  Do  we  not  find  ourselves 
perpetually  thwarted  or  hindered  in  our  endeavours  to 
give  form  and  scope  to  our  purest  emotions,  our 
tenderest  sympathies,  our  loftiest  resolves  ?  Do  we  not 
perpetually  complain  that,  when  we  would  do  good, 
even  if  evil  is  not  present  to  overcome  the  good,  it  is 
present  to  mar  it,  to  make  our  goodness  poor,  scanty, 
ungraceful  ?  Well,  these  obstructed  purposes  and  in- 
tentions and  resolves,  all  the  good  in  us  that  has  been 
frustrated  or  deformed,  or  limited,  by  our  social  con- 


THE  EPILOGUE. 


ditions,  by  our  lack  of  power,  culture,  expression,  by 
the  clogging  flesh  or  the  flagging  brain, — all  these  are 
among  "  the  secret  things "  which  God  will  bring  to 
light ;  and  we  may  be  sure  that  He  will  not  think  less 
of  these,  his  own  work  in  us,  than  of  the  manifold  sins 
by  which  we  have  marred  his  work.  We  are  in  some 
danger  of  regarding  "the  judgment"  as  a  revelation  of 
our  trespasses  only,  instead  of  every  deed,  and  every 
secret,  whether  good  or  bad.  Once  conceive  of  it 
aright,  as  the  revelation  of  the  whole  man,  as  the 
unveiling  of  all  that  is  in  us,  and  mere  honesty  might 
lead  us  to  desire  rather  than  to  dread  it.  One  of  the 
finest  and  most  devout  spirits  of  modern  France  ^ 
has  said  :  "  It  seems  to  me  intolerable  to  appear  to 
men  other  than  we  appear  to  God.  My  worst  torture 
at  this  moment  is  the  over-estimate  which  generous 
friends  form  of  me.  We  are  told  that  at  the  last  judg- 
ment the  secret  of  all  consciences  will  be  laid  bare 
to  the  universe  :  would  that  mine  were  so  this  day, 
and  that  every  passer-by  coidd  read  me  as  I  am  I  "  To 
seem  what  we  are,  to  be  known  for  what  we  are, 
to  be  treated  as  we  are,  this  is  the  judgment  of  God. 
And,  though  this  judgment  must  bring  even  the  best 
of  us  much  shame  and  much  sorrow,  who  that  sin- 
cerely loves  God  and  truth  will  not  rejoice  to  have 
done  at  last  with  all  masks  and  veils,  to  wear  his 
'  Maurice  de  Guerin  in  his  Journal. 

21 


322  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

natural  colours,  and  to  take  his  true  place,  even  though 
it  be  the  lowest  ? 

"  In  the  corrupted  currents  of  this  world 
Offence's  gilded  hand  may  shove  by  justice, 
And  oft  'tis  seen  the  wicked  prize  itself 
Buys  out  the  law  :  but  'tis  not  so  above ; 
There  is  no  shuffling,  there  the  action  lies 
In  its  true  nature,  and  we  ourselves  compell'd 
Even  to  the  teeth  and  forehead  of  our  faults 
To  give  in  evidence." 

To  have  got  out  of  "  the  corrupted  currents  "  of  which 
audacious  and  strong  injustice  so  often  avails  itself  to 
our  hurt ;  to  be  quit  of  all  the  shufQing  equivocations 
by  which  we  often  pervert  the  true  character  of  our 
actions,  and  persuade  ourselves  that  we  are  other  and 
better  than  we  are ;  to  be  compelled  to  look  our  faults 
straight  and  fairly  in  the  face ;  to  have  all  the  latent 
goodness  of  our  natures  developed,  and  their  fettered 
and  obstructed  virtue  liberated  from  every  bond ;  to 
see  our  every  "  secret  "  good  as  well  as  bad,  and  our 
every  "  deed  "  good  as  well  as  bad,  exposed  in  their 
true  colours  :  is  there  no  hope,  no  comfort  for  us,  in 
such  a  prospect  as  this  ?  It  is  a  prospect  full  of  com- 
fort, full  of  hope,  if  at  least  we  have  any  real  trust  in 
the  grace  and  goodness  of  God ;  and  if,  through  his 
grace,  we  have  set  ourselves  to  do  our  duty,  to  love 
our  neighbour,  and  to  bear  the  changes  and  burdens 
of  life  with  a  patient  cheerful  heart. 


THE  EPILOGUE.  323 


Now  that  we  have  once  more  heard  the  Preacher's 
final  conclusion,  we  shall  have  no  difficulty  in  fitting 
into  its  place,  or  valuing  at  its  worth,  the  partial  and 
provisional  conclusion  to  which  he  rises  at  the  close  of 
the  previous  Sections  of  the  Book.  In  the  First  Section 
he  describes  his  quest  of  the  Chief  Good  in  Wisdom 
and  in  Mirth  ;  he  declares  that,  though  both  wisdom 
and  mirth  are  good,  neither  of  them  is  the  supreme 
good  of  life,  nor  both  combined  ;  and,  in  despair  of 
reaching  any  higher  mark,  he  closes  with  the  admission 
(ch.  ii.,  vv.  24-26)  that  even  for  the  man  who  is  both 
wise  and  good  "  there  is  nothing  better  than  to  eat  and 
to  drink,  and  to  let  his  soul  take  pleasure  in  all  his 
labour,"  In  the  Second  Section  he  pursues  his  quest 
in  Devotion  to  Business  and  to  Public  Affairs,  only  to 
find  his  former  conclusion  confirmed  (ch.  v.,  vv.  18-20)  : 
"  Behold,  that  which  I  have  said  holds  good  ;  it  is  well 
for  a  man  to  eat  and  to  drink,  and  to  enjoy  all  the  good 
of  his  labour  through  the  brief  day  of  his  life  ;  this  is 
his  portion ;  and  he  should  take  his  portion  and  rejoice 
in  his  labour,  remembering  that  the  days  of  his  life  are 
not  many,  and  that  God  meant  him  to  work  for  the 
enjoyment  of  his  heart."  In  the  Third  Section,  his 
quest  in  Wealth  and  in  the  Golden  Mean  conducts  him 
by  another  road  to  the  same  bright  resting-place  which, 
however,  for  all  so  bright  as  it  looks,  he  seems  to  enter 
every  time  with  a  more  rueful  and  deject :d  gait  (ch. 


324  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

viii.,  ver.   15):  more  and  more  sadly   he  "commends 
mirth,  because  there  is  nothing  better  for  man  than  to 
eat  and  to  drink  and  to  rejoice,  and  because  this  will 
go  with  him  to  his  work  through  the  days  of  his  life 
which  God  giveth  him  under  the  sun."     To  my  mind 
there   is   a   strange    pathos    in  the   mournful   tones  in 
which  the  Preacher  commends  mirth,  in  the  plaintive 
minors  of  a  voice  from  which  we  should  naturally  ex- 
pect the  clear  ringing  majors  of  joy.     As  we  listen  to 
these  recurring  notes,  we  feel  that  he  has  been  baffled 
in  his  Quest ;  that,  starting  every  day  in  a  fresh  direc- 
tion and  travelling  till  he  is  weary  and  spent,  he  finds 
himself  night  after  night  at  the  very  spot  he  had  left 
in  the  morning,  and  can  only  alleviate  the  unwelcome 
surprise   of  finding  himself  no   farther  and  no  higher 
by  muttering,  "  As  well  here  perhaps  as  elsewhere  ! " 
No  votary  of  mirth   and  jollity  surely  ever    wore    so 
woebegone  a  countenance,  or  sang  their  praises  with 
more  trembling  and  uncertain  lips.     What  can  be  more 
hopeless  than  his  "  the7'e  is  nothing  better,  so  you  must 
even  be  content  with  this,"  or  than  the  way  in  which 
he  harps  on   the  brevity  of  life  !      You  feel  that  the 
man  has  been  passionately  seeking  for  something  better, 
for  a  good  which  would  be  a  good  not  only  through 
the  brief  hours  of  time  but  for  ever ;  that  it  is  with  a 
heart  saddened  by  the  sense  of  wasted  endeavour  and 
cravings  unsatisfied    that   he    falls    back  on    pleasures 


THE  EPILOGUE.  325 


as  brief  as  his  day,  as  wearisome  as  his  toils.  Yet 
all  the  while  he  feels,  and  makes  you  feel,  that 
there  is  a  certain  measure  of  truth  in  his  conclusion  ; 
that  mirth  is  a  great  good,  though  not  the  greatest ; 
that  if  he  could  but  find  that  "  something  better " 
of  which  he  is  in  quest,  he  would  learn  the  secret 
of  a  deeper  mirth  than  that  which  springs  from 
eating  and  drinking  and  sensuous  delights,  a  mirth 
which  would  not  set  with  the  setting  sun  of  his 
brief  day. 

This  feeling  is  justified  by  the  issue.  Now  that  the 
Preacher  has  completed  his  circle  of  thought,  we  can 
see  that  it  is  well  for  a  man  to  rejoice  and  take  pleasure 
in  his  labours,  that  God  did  mean  him  to  work  for  the 
enjoyment  of  his  heart,  that  there  is  a  mirth  purer  and 
more  enduring  than  that  which  springs  from  know- 
ledge, or  from  the  gratification  of  the  senses,  or  from 
success  in  affairs,  or  from  the  possession  of  much 
goods, — a  mirth  for  this  life  which  expands  and  deepens 
into  an  everlasting  joy.  Throughout  his  Quest  he 
has  held  fast  to  the  conviction  that  "it  is  a  comely 
fashion  to  be  glad,"  though  he  could  allege  no 
better  reason  for  his  conviction  than  the  transitoriness 
of  life  and  the  impossibility  of  reaching  any  higher 
good.  Before  he  could  justify  this  conviction,  he  must 
achieve  his  Quest.  It  is  only  when  he  has  learned  to 
regard  our  life — 


326  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

"  as  a  harp, 
A  gracious  instrument  on  whose  fair  strings 
We  learn  those  airs  we  shall  be  set  to  play 
When  mortal  hours  are  ended," 

that  his  plaintive  minors  pass  into  the  frank,  jocund 
tones  appropriate  to  a  sincere  and  well-grounded 
mirth.  Noiv  he  can  cease  to  "  trouble  heaven  with  his 
bootless  cries  "  on  the  indiscrimination  of  death  and  the 
vanity  of  life.     He  can  now  say  to  his  soul, 

"  What  hast  thou  to  do  with  sorrow 
Or  the  injuries  of  to-morrow  ?  " 

for  he  has  discovered  that  no  miorrow  can  any  more 
injure  him,  no  sorrow  rob  him  of  his  true  joy.  God  is 
with  him,  observing  all  the  postures  and  moods  of  his 
soul,  and  adapting  all  his  circumstances  to  the  correc- 
tion of  what  is  evil  in  him  or  the  cultivation  of  what  is 
good.  There  is  no  dark  impassable  gulf  between  this 
world  and  the  next ;  life  does  not  cease  at  death,  but 
grows  more  intense  and  full ;  death  is  but  a  second 
birth  into  a  second  and  better  life,  a  life  of  ampler  and 
happier  conditions,  and  yet  a  life  which  is  the  con- 
tinuation and  consummation  of  that  we  now  live  in  the 
flesh.  All  that  he  has  to  do,  therefore,  is  to  "  fear 
God  and  keep  his  commandments,"  leaving  the  issues 
of  his  labour  in  the  Hands  which  bend  all  things  to  a 
final  goal  of  good.     What  though  the  clouds  drop  rain 


THE  EPILOGUE.  327 


or  the  winds  blow  bitterly,  what  though  his  diligence 
and  charity  meet  no  present  recognition  or  reward  ? 
All  that  is  no  business  of  his.  He  has  only  to  do  tha 
duty  of  the  passing  hour,  and  to  help  his  neighbours 
do  their  duty.  So  long  as  he  can  do  this,  why  should 
he  not  be  bright  and  gay  ?  In  this  lies  his  Chief 
Good :  why  should  he  not  enjoy  that,  even  though  other 
and  lesser  goods  be  taken  from  him  for  a"  time — be 
lent  to  the  Lord  that  they  may  hereafter  be  repaid  with 
usury?  He  is  no  longer  "a  pipe  for  fortune's  finger 
to  sound  what  stop  she  please  :"  he  has  a  tune  of  his 
own,  "a  cheerful  tune,"  to  play,  and  will  play  it,  let 
fortune  be  in  what  mood  she  please.  He  is  not 
"  passion's  slave,"  but  the  servant  and  friend  of  God  ; 
and  because  God  is  with  him  and  for  him,  and  because 
he  will  soon  be  with  God,  he  is 

"  As  one,  in  suffering  all,  that  suffers  nothing," 

and  can  take  "  fortune's  buffets  and  rewards  with  equal 
thanks."  His  cheerful  content  does  not  lie  at  the  mercy 
of  accident ;  the  winds  and  waves  of  vicissitude  cannot 
prevail  against  it :  for  it  has  two  broad  and  solid 
foundations ;  one  on  earth,  and  the  other  in  heaven. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  springs  from  a  faithful  discharge  of 
personal  duty  and  the  neighbourly  charity  which  hopeth 
all  things  and  endureth  all  things ;  on  the  other  hand, 
it  springs  from  the  conviction  that  God  takes  note  of 


328  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

all  things,  and  will  bring  every  secret  and  every  deed 
into  a  judgment  perfectly  just  and  perfectly  kind.  The 
fair  structure  which  rises  on  these  sure  foundations 
is  not  to  be  shaken  by  ought  that  does  not  sap  the 
foundations  on  which  it  rests.  Convince  him  that  God 
is  not  with  him,  or  that  God  does  not  so  care  for  him 
as  to  judge  and  correct  him ;  or  convict  him  of  gross 
and  constant  failures  in  duty  and  in  charity  ;  and  then, 
indeed,  you  touch,  you  endanger,  his  peace.  But  no 
external  loss,  no  breath  of  change,  no  cloud  in  the 
sky  of  his  fortunes,  no  loss,  no  infirmity  that  does  not 
impede  him  in  the  discharge  of  duty,  can  do  more  than 
cast  a  passing  shadow  on  his  heart.  Whatever  happens, 
into  whatever  new  conditions  or  new  worlds  he  may 
pass,  his  chief  good  and  therefore  his  supreme  joy  is 
with  him. 

"  This  man  is  freed  from  servile  bands 
Of  hope  to  rise  or  fear  to  fall  : 
Lord  of  himself,  though  not  of  lands, 
And,  having  nothing,  yet  hath  all." 

Now,  too,  without  fear  or  favour,  without  any  pre- 
judice for  or  against  his  conclusion  because  we  find  it 
in  tloly  Writ,  we  may  ask  ourselves,  Has  the  Preacher 
satisfactorily  solved  the  problem  which  he  took  in  hand  ? 
has  he  really  achieved  his  Quest  and  attained  the  Chief 
Good  ?  One  thing  is  quite  clear ;  he  has  not  lost 
himself  in  speculations  foreign  to  our  experience  and 


THE  EPILOGUE.  329 

remote  from  it ;  he  has  dealt  with  the  common  facts  of 
Hfe  such  as  they  were  in  his  time,  such  as  they  remain 
in  ours  :  for  now,  as  then,  men  are  restless  and  craving, 
and  seek  the  satisfactions  of  rest  in  science  or  in 
pleasure,  in  successful  public  careers  or  in  the  fortunate 
conduct^of  affairs,  by  securing  wealth  or  by  laying  up  a 
modest  provision  for  present  and  future  wants.  Now, 
as  then, 

"  The  common  problem,  yours,  mine,  everyone's, 
Is  not  to  fancy  what  were  fair  in  life 
Providing  it  could  be, — but,  finding  first 
What  may  be,  then  find  how  to  make  it  fair 
Up  to  our  means — a  very  different  thing." 

That  the  Preacher  should  have  attacked  this  common 
problem,  and  should  have  handled  it  with  the  practical 
good  sense  which  characterises  his  Poem,  is  a  point, 
and  a  large  point,  in  his  favour. 

Nor  is  the  conclusion  at  which  he  arrives,  in  its 
substance,  peculiar  to  him,  or  even  to  the  Scriptures. 
He  says :  The  perfect  man,  the  ideal  man,  is  he  who 
addresses  himself  to  the  present  duty  untroubled  by 
adverse  clouds  and  currents,  who  so  loves  his  neighbour 
that  he  can  do  good  even  to  the  evil  and  the  unthank- 
ful, and  who  carries  a  brave  cheerful  temper  to  the 
unrewarded  toils  and  sacrifices  of  his  life,  because  God 
is  with  him,  taking  note  of  all  he  does,  and  because 
there  is  a  future   life  for  which  this  course  of  duty. 


330  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

charity,  and  magnanimity,  is  the  best  preparative.  He 
affirms  that  the  man  who  has  risen  to  the  discovery 
and  practice  of  this  ideal  has  attained  tlie  Chief  Good, 
that  he  has  found  a  duty  from  which  no  accident  can 
divert  him,  a  pure  and  tranquil  joy  which  will  sus- 
tain him  under  all  change  and  loss.  And,  on  his 
behalf,  I  am  bold  to  assert  that,  allowing  for  inevitable 
differences  of  conception  and  utterance,  his  conclusion 
is  the  conclusion  of  all  the  great  teachers  of  morality. 
Take  any  of  the  ancient  systems  of  morality  and 
religion — Hindu,  Egyptian,  Persian,  Chinese,  Greek, 
or  Latin  ;  select  those  elements  of  it  in  virtue  of  which 
it  has  lived  and  ruled  over  myriads  of  men  ;  reduce 
those  elements  to  their  simplest  forms,  express  them  in 
the  plainest  words ;  and,  as  I  believe,  you  will  find 
that  in  every  case  they  are  only  different  and  modified 
versions  of  the  final  conclusion  of  the  Preacher.  "  Do 
your  duty  ^patiently ;  Be  kind  and  helpful  one  to 
another ;  Shew  a  cheerful  content  with  your  lot ; 
Heaven  is  with  you  and  will  judge  you  :  "^ — these  brief 
maxims  seem  to  be  the  ethical  epitome  of  all  the  creeds 
and  systems  that  have  had  their  day,  as  also  of  those 
which  have  not  ceased  to  be.  It  is  very  true  that  the 
motive  to  obedience  which  Coheleth  draws  from  the 
future  life  of  man  has  been  of  a  varying  force  and 
influence,  rising  perhaps  to  its  greatest  clearness  among 
the  Egyptians  and  the  Persians,  sinking  to  its  dimmest 


THE  EPILOGUE. 


among  the  Greeks  and  the  Romans,  although  we  can- 
not say  it  did  not  shine  even  upon  these  ;  for,  though 
the  secret  of  their  "  mysteries "  has  been  kept  with 
a  rare  fidelity,  yet  the  general  impression  of  Antiquity 
concerning  them  was  that,  besides  disclosing  to  the 
initiated  the  natural  and  moral  truths  on  which  the 
popular  mythology  was  based,  they  "opened  to  man 
a  comforting  prospect  of  a  future  state."  I  am  not 
careful  to  show  how  the  Word  of  Inspiration  surpasses 
all  other  "scriptures"  in  the  precision  with  which  it 
enunciates  the  elementary  truths  of  all  morality,  in  its 
freedom  from  admixture  with  baser  matter,  in  its  appli- 
cation of  those  truths  to  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men,  and  the  power  of  the  motives  by  which  it  enforces 
them.  That  is  no  part  of  my  present  duty.  The  one 
point  to  which  I  ask  attention  is  this:  "With  what 
an  enormous  weight  of  authority,  drawn  from  all  creeds 
and  systems,  from  the  whole  ethical  experience  of 
humanity,  the  conclusion  of  the  Preacher  is  clothed  ; 
how  we  stand  rebuked  by  the  wisdom  of  all  past  ages 
if,  after  duly  testing  it,  we  have  not  adopted  his  solu- 
tion of  the  master-problem  of  life,  and  are  not  working 
it  out.  Out  of  every  land,  in  all  the  different  languages 
of  the  divided  earth,  from  the  lips  of  all  the  ancient  sages 
whom  we  reverence  for  their  excellence  or  for  their 
wisdom,  no  less  than  from  the  mouths  of  prophet  and 
psalmist,  preacher  and  apostle,  there  come  to  us  voices 


332  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 

which  with  one  consent  bid  us  "  fear  God  and  keep 
his  commandments ;  " — a  sacred  chorus  which  paces 
down  the  long-drawn  aisles  of  Time,  chanting  the 
praise  of  the  man  who  does  his  duty  even  though  he 
lose  by  it,  who  loves  his  neighbour  even  though  he 
win  no  love  in  return,  who  breasts  the  blows  of  cir- 
cumstance with  a  tranquil  heart,  who  by  a  wise  use 
and  a  wise  enjoyment  of  the  life  that  nov/  is  qualifies 
himself  for  the  better  life  to  be. 


This,  then,  is  the  Hebrew  solution  of  "the  common 
problem."  It  is  also  the  Christian  solution.  For  when 
"  the  Fellow  of  the  Lord  of  hosts,"  instead  of  "  clutching 
at  his  equality  with  God,"  humbled  Himself  and  took 
on  Him  the  form  of  a  servant,  the  very  ideal  of  perfect 
manhood  became  incarnate  in  this  "  man  from  heaven." 
Does  the  Hebrew  Preacher,  backed  by  the  consentient 
voices  of  the  great  sages  of  Antiquity,  demand  that  the 
ideal  man,  moved  thereto  by  his  sense  of  a  constant 
Divine  Presence  and  the  hope  of  God's  future  judgment, 
should  cast  the  bread  of  his  charity  on  the  thankless 
waters  of  neighbourly  ingratitude,  give  himself  with  all 
diligence  to  the  discharge  of  duty  whatever  clouds  may 
darken  his  sky,  whatever  unkindly  wind  may  nip  his 
harvest,  and  maintain  a  calm  and  cheerful  temper  in 
all  weathers,  and  through  all  the  changing  scenes  and 


THE  EPILOGUE.  333 


seasons  of  life  ?     His  demand  is  met,  and  surpassed, 
by  the  Man  Christ  Jesus.      He  loved   all   men  with 
a  love  which  the  many  waters  of  their  hostility  and 
unthankfulness  could  not  quench.     Always  about   his 
Father's  business,   when  He  laid   aside  the  glory  He 
had  with  the  Father  before  the  world  was,  He  put  off 
the  robes  of  a  king  to  don  the  weeds  of  the  husband- 
man, and  went  forth  to  sow  in  all  weathers,  beside  all 
waters,  undaunted  by  any  wind  of  opposition  or  any 
threatening  cloud.     In  all  the  shock  of  hostile  circum- 
stance,  in   the   abiding  agony  and    passion    of  a    life 
"  short    in    years    indeed,    but    in    sorrows    above    all 
measure    long,"    He   carried   Himself  with  a   cheerful 
patience  and  serenity  which  never  wavered,  for  the  joy 
set  before  Him  enduring,  and  even  despising,  the  bitter 
cross.       In    fine,   the    very  virtues    inculcated   by   the 
Preacher  were   the    very  substance    of   "the    highest, 
holiest  manhood."      And   if  we  ask,  What  were    the 
motives  which  inspired  this   life   of  consummate  and 
unparalleled  excellence  ?  we  find  among  them  the  very 
motives  suggested  by  Coheleth.      The  strong  Son  of 
Man  and  of  God  was  never  alone,  because  the  Father 
was  with  Him,  as  truly  with  Him  while  He  was  on 
earth  as  when  He  was  in  the  heaven  from  which  He 
"  came  down."     He  never  bated  heart  nor  hope  because 
He  knew  that  He  would  soon  be  with  God  once  more, 
to  be  judged  of  Him  and  recompensed  according  to  the 


334  THE  BOOK  OF  ECCLESIASTES. 


deeds  done  in  the  body  of  his  humiHation.  Men  might 
misjudge  Him,  but  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  would 
do  Him  right.  Men  might  award  Him  only  a  crown 
of  thorns;  but  God  would  touch  the  thorns  and,  at 
his  quickening  touch,  they  would  flower  into  a  garland 
of  immortal  beauty  and  honour. 

Nor  did  the  Lord  Jesus  help  us  in  our  quest  of  the 
Chief  Good  only  by  becoming  a  Pattern  of  all  virtue 
and  excellence.  The  work  of  his  Redemption  is  a 
still  more  sovereign  help.  By  the  sacrifice  of  the 
Cross  He  took  away  the  sins  which  had  rendered  the 
pursuit  of  excellence  a  wellnigh  hopeless  task.  By 
the  impartation  of  his  Spirit,  no  less  than  by  the 
inspiration  of  his  Example,  He  seeks  to  win  us  to 
the  love  of  our  neighbour,  to  fidelity  in  the  discharge 
of  our  daily  duty,  and  to  that  cheerful  and  constant 
trust  in  the  providence  of  God  by  which  we  are  redeemed 
from  the  bondage  of  care  and  fear.  He,  the  Immanuel, 
by  taking  our  flesh  and  dwelling  among  us,  has  proved 
that  "God  is  with  us,"  that  He  will  in  very  deed 
dwell  with  men  upon  the  earth.  He,  the  Victor  over 
death,  by  his  resurrection  from  the  grave,  has  proved 
the  truth  of  a  future  life  and  a  future  judgment  with 
arguments  of  a  force  and  quality  unknown  to  our 
Hebrew  fathers. 

So  that  now  as  of  old,  now  even  more  demonstrably 
than  of  old.  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  is  that 


THE  EPILOGUE.  335 


we  "  fear  God  and  keep  his  commandments."  This  is 
still  the  one  solution  of  "  the  common  problem  "  and 
"  the  whole  duty  of  man."  He  who  accepts  this  solution 
and  discharges  this  duty  has  achieved  the  Supreme 
Quest;  to  him  it  has  been  given  to  find  the  Chief 
Good. 


Date  Due 


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